The Story in the Tale
by razztaztic
Summary: Welcome to my post-S6: Change in the Game BonesWorld! It's full of fluffy bunnies and chocolate strawberries and cotton candy clouds that rain M&Ms.  And happily ever after!
1. The Story in the Tale

The mood was light, although tinged with a somber note. Successfully closing a case, finding the evidence necessary to bring a murderer to justice, was always reason to celebrate. In this case, the memory of the four little boys whose lives had ended at the hands of the man now sitting in jail because of the team's hard work tempered the usual triumph.

"You okay, Bones?" Booth leaned in, his voice low, looking at her closely. The shadows in her eyes echoed the faint circles under them. Under cover of the table, she squeezed his hand where it rested above her knee.

"Tired," she responded, resisting – barely – the urge to lay her head on his shoulder and take the comfort he offered. Her eyes misted over and she blinked furiously to banish the tears that seemed to form so easily these last few weeks. She cleared her throat quietly, trying to swallow back the hard knot that threatened to unravel the suddenly tenuous grip she had on her composure. Booth turned his hand over to capture hers, squeezing back, giving her something to focus on as she struggled. She looked at their entwined hands, his so broad and capable, hers smaller, the fingers long and slender. When she had herself under control again, she looked up directly into those warm brown eyes focused on her with so much concern.

"Booth, I . . ." her voice trailed away at a quick burst of laughter from Clark. _Not the place, Temperance_, she scolded herself silently. Booth held her gaze, offering that lopsided, dimpled half-smile of his that so charmed her.

"I know," he whispered quietly, with one more squeeze to her fingers. She took a deep breath and looked away . . . directly into the all-seeing eyes of Jack Hodgins. His gaze flicked back and forth between Brennan and Booth, questions and suspicion welling. Brennan released Booth's hand with a small cough, folding her hands together primly on the table in front of her. Booth casually lifted his arm to the back of Brennan's chair; unseen, his fingers burrowed beneath her hair, tracing faint patterns on the nape of her neck.

"Okay, if I don't get home and feed Michael my boobs will burst!" Angela exclaimed loudly, claiming the table's attention. With laughter and hugs, the Jeffersonian crew parted, leaving Booth and Brennan sitting at the table alone. Holding the door for Angela and Cam as they chattered their way out, Hodgins looked back as Booth threaded his fingers in Brennan's hair, lowering his head to press a gentle kiss on her lips. Her face remained upturned, her eyes closed as their lips parted. Hodgins grinned as Booth smiled and kissed her forehead, murmuring words that didn't carry past the two people lost in each other.

"Why are you smiling like the Cheshire Cat?" Angela asked as he joined her on the sidewalk in front of The Founding Fathers.

"Oh, you know," Jack replied, unable to stop his grin from widening. "Life is pretty sweet. Now let's get you and your leaky boobs home to our son."


	2. Conversations in the Dark

Brennan dropped her toothbrush in the cup on the bottom shelf of the cabinet, the presence of the second toothbrush such a familiar sight it no longer registered as she shut them both away. She pulled off the band keeping her hair from her freshly washed face and dropped it in the basket sitting next to the sink, flicking the light off as she walked into the bedroom.

"Hodgins was watching us tonight," she stated, as she pulled back the comforter on her side of the bed and crawled in next to Booth's warmth. "He's very intuitive, you know."

"Yea, if by intuitive you mean nosy," Booth retorted.

"No, intuitive means . . . "

"Bones," Booth chuckled. "I know what intuitive means. But I still say he's being nosy." He clicked the off button on the remote control and tossed it on the bedside table, pulling her into his arms as the room went dark with the TV.

"I'm still not sure why I allowed you to put that TV in my bedroom," she muttered, settling against his chest.

"Our bedroom," Booth corrected. "And hockey finals, Bones! Do you really want me out there, in the living room, waking you up when I come to bed after the game? Of course not. Much better this way." He yawned widely, the heat from her body curled into his side coupled with the physical satiation of their lovemaking over the past hour adding to his drowsiness. His right hand wandered lazily over her thigh where it hooked across his.

"I think we're going to have to tell everyone soon," Brennan whispered in the darkness. "I don't believe Dr. Hodgins would gossip, but . . ."

"Ha!" Booth barked. "Hodgins would definitely gossip. But probably only to Angela and she already knows we're together so I think we're okay for a few more weeks." Another big yawn cracked his jaw. "But if you want to go ahead, let's do it. I'm surprised we've kept it a secret so far."

"How should we tell everyone? Call a meeting? Throw a party?" Eyes closed, Brennan thought out loud. "I'd like to do it all at once, if possible."

She felt Booth's shrug under her cheek. "Let's just get everyone together after work, you know, like Hodgins and Angela did."

"You weren't there for their baby announcement, Booth." Although she didn't open her eyes, Brennan felt the shift of his body as Booth lifted his head to look down at her.

"Bones?" His finger tapped her nose until she looked at him. "Do we need to talk about that? About Hannah?" His drowsiness gone, Booth looked at her steadily.

A long second passed as Brennan gazed back at him, her eyes clear. "No," she answered finally, her cheek rubbing Booth's chest as she shook her head. "We both have a past, Booth. I understand why you loved her."

" 'Loved', Bones," he repeated. "Past tense. Hannah was . . ."

"Hannah is a very nice person," Brennan interrupted him. "I'm not sorry it didn't work for the two of you, but I hope she finds happiness."

"You make me happy, Bones." Booth smiled gently down at her.

"Yes, I know." Brennan closed her eyes and settled her cheek on his chest again.

"So...baby announcement," Booth continued, his head dropping back to the pillow.

"Baby announcement." Brennan sighed, flopping to her back. Booth turned to his side, the fingers of one hand splayed across the span of her stomach between her pelvic bones. There was just the slightest hint of a swell there, under his palm. He closed his eyes, his body still.

"What are you doing?" Brennan whispered.

"Shhh. I think I can feel the baby's heartbeat."

Brennan's lips curved into a wide smile. "Booth, there's no possible way you can . . . "

"Shhh!" His eyes popped open, sparkling with happiness. "It's right here."

Laughing at his obvious joy, Brennan was struck suddenly with the memory of a book from her childhood, and a line about a heart growing three times its size. Nonsense, of course, because hearts didn't actually grow in physical size just because you loved someone but as her chest expanded with the deep breath she took, she understood the symbolism.

"Booth," she whispered, "you know that it's still difficult for me to express my feelings easily and I know I don't say it enough, but . . ." she paused and placed her hand over his where it rested on her abdomen. "I love you. I do." Her eyes swam suddenly with the ever-present tears.

"Bones, hey . . . hey, no waterworks, okay?" Even knowing the tears were a product of pregnancy hormones, seeing her brush them away tugged at his heart. He folded her in his embrace and turned on his back, pulling her with him. "I know. I know. You tell me a hundred different ways, every day. The words will get easier, but even if they don't, I know." He dropped kisses into her hair and caressed her back and shoulders. "I know. "

She sniffled and sighed. "I find this new tendency to frequently burst into tears the most difficult part of pregnancy so far. I feel so….out of control! It's very irritating. Dr. Edison brought me a reconstructed femur and I cried for ten minutes. I thought he might turn in his resignation."

Only a firm bite on his lower lip kept Booth from laughing out loud. "I'm sure it will pass soon. Then all you'll have to worry about will be swollen feet, stretch marks and heartburn."

With a painful pinch to his stomach and an accompanying chuckle, Brennan punished and rewarded him for his wit.

"We're having a baby, Booth."

"We're having a baby, Bones."


	3. The Best Laid Plans

The doorbell roused her from the light sleep she'd fallen into while lying on the sofa. Groaning, Brennan sat up, holding her body still for a moment, prepared for a rush of nausea. When it didn't come, she padded slowly over to her door. Through the peep hole, she saw her father lift his hand, this time to knock sharply.

"Dad," she opened the door for him and found herself wrapped in his hug. "What are you doing here? How did you know I was home?"

"I stopped by the lab to see you and they told me you weren't feeling well and wouldn't be in until later. You're never sick. So, here I am." He looked her up and down, noting the pajama bottoms, the sweatshirt, the thick socks and her general pallor. "I thought you might be playing hooky, but you don't look good." He eyed her with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad." At his skeptical look, she added, "I will be fine. This is just temporary."

"I'm sure it is," Max answered. "But in the meantime, maybe you should lie back down. Do you want me to make you some tea?" He headed toward her kitchen. "How about I make you some of my famous jalapeno scrambled eggs . . . Tempy?"

Brennan slapped one hand over her mouth and ran. Max made to follow her, but stopped abruptly at the sounds of retching. _"I'll just let her be alone for a minute or so_," he murmured to himself. "Tempy, I'm right here. Yell if you need me!" he called out to her.

Keeping his hands busy while he waited for Brennan, Max straightened the blankets and pillows spread out over the sofa. Taking a seat, he picked up a sports magazine from the table...and paused. Moving the magazine had uncovered a thick grey university text book bearing the words **_Williams Obstetrics_** in large letters on the front. Max slowly nudged the tome until it slid off the book beneath it - a brightly colored slightly thinner paper bound edition of **_What to Expect When You're Expecting_**.

Max exhaled and sat back, glancing over his shoulder toward the sounds still coming from the bathroom. "Wow." He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "Wow." Blinking, thoughts whirling, Max headed to the kitchen. He had a glass under the tap before he noticed the large coffee cup, an FBI branded cup, sitting in the sink. Abruptly, Max turned back to the living room. He picked up the magazine he'd tossed aside - _Sports Illustrated_, with a label bearing the name and address of Seeley Booth. Eyes narrowed, he scanned the room again. A well-used raquetball racket leaned against a beaten gym bag on the floor next to the hall closet. Max picked up the racket, rubbing his thumb over the tape on the end where faint traces of the letters SB lingered. He dropped the racket back to its original position next to the gym bag, tapping the luggage tag that dangled from its handle, one word written in bold, black letters: BOOTH. He opened the closet door. An empty shoulder holster hung from a bar of hooks, next to two ties and one narrow black man's leather belt. Hanging in the closet among Brennan's variety of light trench coats was an FBI standard issue navy windbreaker and a long black leather coat, 44L.

"Dad?" His daughter stood a few feet away, a damp cloth held against her face, looking at him curiously. She noticed the shoulder holster and bit her lip, taking a few steps forward before coming to a sudden halt. Max followed her gaze to the uncovered text book and pregnancy guide. Brennan closed her eyes briefly and then looked at him again. "Dad."

"Tempy," he said, staring at her. "Is all of this..." he gestured toward the open room. "Are you having a baby?" His head tilted. "Are you having a baby with Booth?"

Temperance Brennan burst into tears.

"Oh, honey!" exclaimed Max, closing the closet door and quickly pulling her into a hug. "Honey, honey, don't cry! It's okay! Babies are wonderful! Shhhhhh, shhhh," he cajoled as he stroked her hair. Then he grasped her shoulders and pushed her back gently. "Is it Booth? What did he do? Doesn't he want the baby? Is he not . . . "

"No, Dad, Booth is fine." Brennan used the wet cloth she still held to wipe her face. "Booth didn't do anything." Max raised an eyebrow. "Well, he did this…." Her hand moved vaguely in the direction of her abdomen, and then she shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant. I mean, I'm not crying about Booth. He's been wonderful. I cry over everything! It's very frustrating!" She took a deep breath. "Yes, Dad. I'm pregnant." She looked at him directly. "I'm having a baby with Booth." She looked around the room. "This is not how I wanted to tell you. How we wanted to tell you. No one else knows!" Her voice was earnest. "You can't tell anyone yet! We haven't told anyone. We haven't decided what to do yet."

"What to do?" Max asked. "Are you thinking about . . ." he paused, unwilling to put the thought into words.

"No, Dad! No. We're having the baby. We're keeping the baby." Brennan folded and refolded the cloth she held. "But, it's complicated. We're partners. Once the FBI knows about us, about the baby, they might split us up. They might not let us work together again." Her eyes filled again; resolutely, she took a series of deep breaths until she was once more in control. "We have to do this right. We're partners."

"Tempy," Max said softly. "You're going to be parents together. The FBI can't break that partnership." Brennan's chin quivered, and she nodded as she swiped away the tears that managed to escape. Her father smiled at her gently, hugging her to him again as the tears flowed. "Come here, honey, come here." He patted her back softly. "Your mother was a regular fountain, too, when she was carrying you. I started keeping extra shirts with me, just so I'd have a dry one handy." Brennan laughed in spite of herself.

"I'll suggest that to Booth," she smiled at Max.

"So," he began casually. "What are you going to do? Is Booth living here with you?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes we sleep at his apartment." Brennan shrugged. "We haven't fully worked out the logistics."

"What about after the baby? Have you talked about, you know, getting married?"

"Dad," Brennan rolled her eyes at the question. "We don't have to get married just because I'm pregnant." She looked at Max. "We haven't discussed it." Her expression and tone indicated the subject was closed.

"Hmmm." He scanned her face, his lips pursed. "How does Booth feel about the baby?"

She laughed, her face alight. "Booth is overjoyed. He swears he can feel the heartbeat. Which is obviously ridiculous," she scoffed with a smile. "But, sweet." Her hand touched her stomach without conscious effort on her part, as her expression softened. "Very sweet."

"And you, Tempy? How do you feel? About the baby, I mean." Max watched his daughter carefully.

"It was a surprise, definitely," she began, taking a seat on the sofa, pulling a pillow into her lap. "It wasn't planned. And when I found out, I was in shock." She smiled self-consciously as Max sat down next to her. "And nervous about telling Booth. We didn't plan this," she repeated. "But Booth was….amazing." Her voice was sincere as she tried to find the right words for Max. "He just….he just accepted it. He was so happy. This is going to change everything," she said quietly, "and he just accepted it, and started talking about the future." Her quiet laugh was more a puff of air, but in it Max heard her relief and a quiet acceptance of her own. She looked at him, a light shrug accompanying her smile. "And here we are. He's so happy, Dad."

Max nodded. "Booth is a good man, Tempy. I knew that when he arrested me." Brennan laughed at her father's broad wink and grin. "Hey!" Max exclaimed, "You know what this means? I'm going to be a grandfather!" He grabbed her hands and they laughed together. "I'm going to be a grandfather!"

After a few more minutes conversation, when Brennan was sure the nausea had passed and she could prepare to go into the lab, Max stood to take his leave.

At the door, he hugged his daughter tight and sighed. "Ah, Tempy. Times like this, I really miss your mother." He laid his cheek against her hair. "I wish she could be here right now."

Brennan sniffed and nodded, unable to speak for fear of releasing a fresh bout of tears.

Max patted her back and opened the door. "Booth is a good man," he repeated. "A good man. He'll do the right thing." He paused before stepping out. "Hey, you know what? I should stop by and see him. You know, give him my blessing."

"I don't think that's wise, Dad," Brennan began.

"Oh, sure," Max grinned. "We're family now! Yea, I'll just let him know how happy I am and give him my blessing. That's just what I need to do."

"Dad . . . '

"Love you, Tempy. You take care of my grandchild." He kissed her cheek and was gone, whistling as he walked away.

Brennan closed the door, leaning against it, eyes closed. _I should call Booth and warn him_, she thought. _Right after I shower._


	4. The Con in the Ire

Booth didn't see it coming.

One minute he was standing in the kitchen on the 4th floor of the Hoover building, talking case specifics with Caroline Julian and Dr. Sweets and the next minute, a hard right hook connected solidly with his jaw, knocking him back a step.

"Max Keenan!" Caroline's voice rose in shock.

"Booth! Mr. Keenan!" Sweets moved to stand in front of Max, pushing him back a few steps to separate him further from Booth.

Booth massaged his tender jaw, working it side to side. Older he might be, but Max Keenan's punch still packed a wallop. "What the hell?"

Over Sweets' shoulder, Max stared down Booth, struggling to break free. "Get out of my way! I'm going to hit him again!"

"Okay," Sweets interrupted, using his rational, professional voice. "Let's just take a minute and calm down. What is going on?"

Caroline looked from one to the other. "Didn't you two learn anything the last time you used each other as punching bags? What happened - did Booth stop you from shooting someone else?"

"The only man I want to shoot right now is him," Max said loudly, pushing back against Sweets' restraining hands. "And if I don't get the right answer, I will!"

"Now wait a minute . . . " Booth began. Obviously, Brennan had been talking to her father; Booth's only objective at the moment, other than not allowing Max to hit him again, was to get him somewhere private before he . . .

"No, YOU wait a minute! You don't get my daughter pregnant and not do right by her! So, what are you going to do? And you better have the right answer!"

. . . . spilled the beans. Well, hell. Booth hung his head, eyes closed, hands on hips, then looked from Sweets shocked face to Caroline's wide-eyed astonishment.

"Okay, this is not what it sounds like," he said. Sweets' hands dropped from Max's shoulders as he turned to face Booth.

"Is Dr. Brennan pregnant?" he asked, his expression still vaguely bewildered.

"Yes."

"Is it your baby?" This from Caroline, who was now grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes."

"Then what did I miss?" asked Max, crossing his arms.

Booth rubbed his face with one hand. "Look, it's complicated . . ."

"Are you going to marry my daughter?" Max interrupted, staring hard. "Or are you going to be a weekend dad to another kid?"

"Hey, I am not Parker's weekend dad. I am his father," Booth said fiercely. "And you," he added, poking a finger in Max's chest, "are going too far!"

"Woah, woah, gentlemen." Sweets quickly interrupted, inserting his body again between them. "Why don't we see if we can't go somewhere more private." With a nod, Sweets indicated the audience of agents and staff watching with avid curiosity the scene in the kitchen.

"Fine," Booth agreed shortly. "My office, Max," he glared at the older man. "Now."

Max stepped back. "After you," he gestured. Booth pushed past him, ignoring the murmurs of the crowd. Max paused, looking back at Caroline and Sweets with a broad smile before arranging his face into a scowl and following in Booth's wake.

The prosecutor and the psychologist hurried to catch up.

Before Booth could close the door behind Max, Caroline and Sweets were there. "What?" he asked in exasperation. "This is between me and Max, we don't need an audience!"

"This could be a difficult conversation," Sweets replied, trying to take a step or two deeper into Booth's office. "I might be able to offer valuable insights or advice . . ."

Caroline pushed past both men and sat down. "I am definitely not going to miss this, cherie. You two go right ahead," she waved one hand at Max as she settled in. "Just pretend I'm not here."

Booth rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Fine. Fine!" He closed his door with a snap. "Sit down!" he gestured impatiently to the two men before sitting down with a sigh behind his desk. Sweets immediately took a chair in the corner. Max remained standing.

"Don't tell me to sit down, kid. I want to know what you're going to do about my daughter and my grandchild!" He paced a few steps. "I knew it. I knew something was going on! _'You can be my girlfriend,'_ he mimicked. "The way you looked at her! But this . . ." Max turned back to slam a hand on Booth's desk and slammed a hand down. "Don't they teach you birth control in the FBI?"

"Max, I am not going to discuss Bones and birth control with you, okay?" Booth shook his head.

"Hummpf." Caroline crossed her arms and stared at Booth. "I guess you didn't talk about birth control with Dr. Brennan, either."

"No," Booth exclaimed. "That's not . . . It just . . . Look, Bones . . . "

"Oh, right. Blame it on Tempy!" Max threw his hands up in disgust. "You were obviously there! Why didn't you take responsibility?"

"I'm not blaming Bones!" Booth stood up angrily, eyes shooting daggers at Max. "We didn't plan on ending up in bed together! It just happened! It was an accident!"

"My grandchild is an accident, huh?" Max pursed his lips and nodded at Booth. "I guess you'd rather it not even exist!"

In his corner, Sweets stood up to interrupt..."Oh, Mr. Keenan. I don't think . . . "

In a flash, Booth was around the corner of his desk, standing toe to toe with Max. "You need to watch it." His voice was low and dangerous. "This is my child. This baby belongs to me and Temperance. We want this baby." His jaw hard, his eyes filled with fire, Booth locked Max's gaze with his own. "As for what I'm going to do, we are a family. Me. Bones. This baby. And Parker. A family."

Max held his stare for a long moment, and then nodded. "Okay. Okay." He stepped back, and Sweets let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Caroline, one eyebrow lifted high, watched Booth carefully as he moved back to his chair and sat down slowly, eyes still on Max. "That's all I needed to hear. I'll...ah, I'll let you get back to work." Max turned to the door and catching Caroline's eye, gave her a wink and a broad, happy grin. He walked out the door, whistling.

"Agent Booth," Sweets began tentatively.

"No," said Booth firmly. "And this . . ." he drew drew broad circles in the air, gesturing to his office. "This stays right here until I tell you otherwise. No one else knows yet. Got it?" Caroline and Sweets nodded.

"Agent Booth . . ."

"Not now Sweets!" Booth determinedly picked up a file from his desk and opened it.

"Hmmm. Well, come on, cher," said Caroliine, pulling Sweets to the door with her. "The man obviously wants to be alone."

Booth waited until he heard his office door latch closed, closed the file and tossed it on his desk. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to decide how to tell Bones the entire FBI now knew they were having a baby. When his phone rang, he picked it up without looking at the screen.

"What?"

"Booth? I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" Brennan's voice was curious.

"Bones, no. No, no. No, baby, it's fine. I was just . . . thinking."

"Oh. Well, I have some news." Brennan paused. "My father knows. My father knows about the baby. I thought I should tell you. He came by here and I had a bit of nausea, and while I was in the bathroom he saw the pregnancy book on the table, and . . ." her voice trailed off.

"Yea," Booth responded, trying to keep his voice light. "Your dad . . . your dad has a way of getting information from people."

"He was very happy for us," said Brennan, laughing. "Very excited about being a grandfather." She paused. "But, I think you should know that he did mention stopping by to congratulate you in person. He said he wanted to give you his blessing."

"His blessing." Booth touched his aching jaw gingerly, and then chuckled. "Yea, what would I do without Max's blessing?"


	5. Strange Vibrations

Brennan touched the UP arrow and waited impatiently in front of the bank of elevators in the lobby of the Hoover FBI building, a large envelope tapping against her leg. She heard the whisper of her name and looked over her shoulder to see two agents she almost recognized staring in her direction. One of them smiled hesitantly and offered a feeble wave when she caught his eye. She frowned and turned away just as an elevator at the far end of the bank of doors opened. Hustling down the row, she stood back to let those disembarking pass. To her surprise, more than a few did a quick double take on seeing her.

"Dr. Brennan!" One of the agents stopped in surprise.

"Yes. Hello," she responded abruptly, passing him to get into the elevator. She punched the number 4 as the agent got back on the elevator with her. "Weren't you getting off?" she asked curiously.

"I was just going to lunch. I can wait a few minutes," he replied with a smile.

'Oh." She watched the blinking floor numbers as the elevator climbed, but felt his gaze on her. Finally, she glanced in his direction.

"Charlie," he said. "Charlie Denton." She nodded. A vague memory stirred. "I work with Agent Booth."

"Don't all agents work together?" she asked as the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor. Charlie followed in her wake.

"Well, yes, but . . ."

Brennan stopped abruptly. Every person on the floor stood silent, frozen in place, staring at her. Bewildered, she scanned the faces of the men and women looking back at her. _What is happening... _

"Dr. Brennan!" Sweets called out as he walked toward her. His voice seemed to bring everyone back to life as they suddenly resumed conversations and drifted slowly back into offices and cubicles. Brennan thought she noticed several faces peeping at her over walls and around door frames. Sweets stopped directly in front of her, a wide grin on his face. Suddenly, she was pulled into an enthusiastic hug, her arms locked awkwardly at her side.

"Why are you hugging me, Dr. Sweets," she choked out.

"I'm just happy to see you, Dr. Brennan. You know, people don't hug enough."

"I'm not really comfortable embracing others without a good reason, Dr. Sweets." She stepped back when he let her go. "So, I'd appreciate it if you asked my permission first, the next time you feel that urge."

"Sure. Sure, Dr. Brennan." His smile still too bright, Sweets watched her head down the hall, waving when she chanced a quick, confused look back at him.

Whispers seemed to follow her to Booth's office. "Something is very strange here today, Booth," she said by way of greeting when he stood up at her entrance.

"Bones, hey!" He stood up from his seat behind the desk.

A sharp rap intruded. "Excuse me, Agent Booth?" A young female agent stood in his doorway. "You requested this file this morning?" She came forward, smiling at Brennan. He took the folder from the agent, quickly scanning it.

"I didn't need this until the end of the week," he said, tossing it on his desk. "But thanks...You can go now," he added as the agent stood staring at Brennan.

"So," Booth turned back to Brennan, "whatcha got for me?"

"I wanted to . . ."

"Booth," another agent interrupted. "You got a minute to sign this birthday card for Mrs. Dillon?"

"Who?"

"Mrs. Dillion. She's the receptionist on the 10th floor."

"Why am I...Never mind." Trying not very successfully to mask his irritation, Booth scrawled his signature on the festive card as the young man rocked on his heels, stealing glances at Brennan.

"I'm sorry," Booth sighed as the other man walked out of the office. "You were saying?"

"I wanted to show you the charts I mentioned yesterday," she answered. She stepped behind his desk, standing over him as he pulled the contents of the envelope free. "Here," she pointed, her arm crossing across the desk in front of him. "These levels prove . . ."

Booth leaned forward slightly until the tip of his nose touched her outstretched arm. "Mmmmm, you smell good." His eyes turned slumberous.

"Booth," she murmured, "I don't think this is an appropriate time . . ."

His eyebrow arched as he looked up at her. "Do you know that's my second favorite perfume on you?"

Her husky, answering chuckle rippled through him. "What's your first choice?"

His smile turned wicked. "Me."

Their lips were millimeters from touching when a voice at the door had them jerking apart. "*ahem* ….Um...excuse me, Agent Booth . . . "

"WHAT?" Booth glared as yet another coworker walked into his office.

"I just wondered if I could get your signature on this?" The agent passed a clipboard across, offering a cheeky smile to Brennan. Booth exhaled loudly and picked up a pen.

"Werbler, why am I signing your healthcare reimbursement form? Do I look like an HR person?"

"Oh, is that what that is?" Unaffected by the heat of Booth's glare, Werbler retrieved the clipboard and sauntered to the door, still smiling at Brennan. "Huh. My mistake."

"Booth, what is going on?" Her bewilderment was palpable. "Why is everyone acting like they've never seen me before?"

Grumbling under his breath, Booth stalked to his office door and stuck his head out. "The next person to come in this office better be wearing a vest!" he yelled. "Because I have a gun!"

"Are you allowed to shoot people inside the building?" Brennan asked.

"Okay, Bones, here's the deal." He sat on the corner of his desk, his hands on her waist pulling her to stand between his knees. "This morning . . ."

"Doc-tor Brennan!" Caroline stood just inside Booth's office, smiling broadly.

Slightly alarmed, Brennan glanced at Booth. "Car-o-line," she responded slowly.

"My, my, don't you look lovely!" Caroline exclaimed. "Just lovely. Doesn't she look lovely, Booth?" Booth shook his head, covering his face with one broad hand. "Is that a new blouse? Did you do something to your hair? You are just glowing, cherie!"

"Are you feeling well, Ms. Julian?" Brennan asked. She turned to Booth. "Something is not right here, Booth."

"Temperance." Andrew Hacker stood in the doorway, his solemn expression matching his voice.

Booth threw his hands in the air. "Of course," he muttered. "Why not?" He crossed his arms and looked to the ceiling.

Hacker crossed the room, cupping Brennan's hands between his, his smile fixed. "Temperance, I just want you to know how happy I am for you and Agent Booth." Shock and confusion filled the look she shot at Booth. "Really, I'm genuinely happy for both of you." One of his hands patted hers gently. "Really, really happy for you. Really happy."

"Okay, okay," Booth pulled Brennan's hands from Hacker's grip. "Yes, sir, thank you. Thank you very much. We're happy that you're happy for us. Sir."

"Yes, well...congratulations again," Hacker offered. "I just wanted to offer my congratulations." He nodded several times. "So...congratulations." Hands in his pockets, he turned and left the office.

Brennan tugged on Booths sleeve. "You told them?" she asked in horror. "Booth, why would you do that?"

"I didn't!" he answered loudly. "Your father, he came in here this morning and he announced it to the whole building! And...he punched me!"

"Dad was here? He said he wanted to give you his blessing!"

"Yea, well, his blessing involved punching me. I should have arrested him for assaulting a federal officer."

"Booth, you have got to stop arresting your child's grandfather," Caroline scolded, folding her arms and looking at him sternly. "It's rude."

"Rude? Who are you?" Booth blinked, his voice echoing his frustration. "Caroline, can we get a moment, please? Alone?"

"I am just saying that Dr. Brennan does not need to be upset. She is in a delicate condition, Booth." Caroline crossed her arms and huffed. "I'm going, I'm going!" She wagged a finger in his direction. "But you can't go around arresting Max Keenan every time he punches you. That will upset her. And it's not good for my godchild."

"Your godchild?" Brennan and Booth spoke simultaneously.

"Well, I'm the one who had you kissing under the mistletoe, aren't I? The way I see it, you owe me." Caroline nodded confidently. "So don't you go around upsetting Dr. Brennan, or the baby, you hear?"

They stared after her departing figure in silence for a full minute.

"We're in an episode of The Twilight Zone," Booth muttered.

"I don't know what that means," Brennan responded. "And I don't care. Tell me what happened this morning. Does everyone here know that I'm pregnant? Is that why they're all staring at me, like I'm on display?"

"Yea," he shrugged. "Max just walked in, punched me and started yelling loud enough to wake J. Edgar Hoover. I didn't have time to get him somewhere quiet before he blurted it out. There's probably a front page ad in the Post tomorrow," he muttered.

"I don't understand why he chose to behave that way," Brennan looked at Booth, her brow furrowed. "I specifically told him we weren't ready to tell everyone, that we had to time the announcement carefully."

"Well, ready or not, Max made sure the time is now." He used one hand to slide his jaw back and forth. "I can't believe he punched me."

"You impregnated his unmarried daughter," Brennan pulled a face. "As a father, he probably felt justified in protecting my honor."

"Nah," Booth shook his head. "I think he just wanted to hit me."

"Well, he's much older than you. I'm sure it couldn't have hurt that much."

"It left a bruise."

"I don't see a bruise, Booth."

"Yea, it's right here." His finger pointed to a spot just under his jawline.

Brennan laughed. "Do you want me to kiss it? Will that lesson the pain?"

That irresistible smile was back. "That might make me feel better."

"Might?"

"Might take a couple of times. I'll let you know."


	6. Out of the Mouths of Babes

"Rebecca is dropping Parker off tonight at 6:00." Booth glanced from the road in front of him to Brennan, sitting beside him in the SUV as he drove her back to the Jeffersonian. "How does pizza sound for dinner?"

"Parker!" A dawning realization filled Brennan's expression. "Booth, I'm sorry. I've been so concerned with what might happen to our partnership that I haven't given any thought as to how this will affect Parker."

"I've thought about that enough for both of us." One hand reached out to squeeze one of hers.

"Parker should not be the last person to know about the baby," she continued. "He's your son, he has priority over coworkers and friends."

Booth shrugged. "So, we'll tell him tonight." He shot her a grin. "Together."

x - x - x - x

* * *

><p>x - x - x - x<p>

Brennan was nervous. She recognized the unsettled feeling that had her compulsively fluffing cushions and pillows or adjusting fractionally some of the items on her display shelves. She checked the table again - three place settings, silverware, glasses. _Maybe the red napkins instead of the copper,_ she thought, _Parker likes red. _The sound of the key in the door brought her back to the living room as Booth opened the door for Parker, who stepped in holding a large, flat pizza box.

"Hi, Dr. Brennan! We brought pizza!"

"I see that. It smells delicious." And, strangely enough considering how she had been reacting recently to strong odors, it did. For once, the rumbling in her stomach was a portent of hunger, not a race to the nearest bathroom. She caught Booth's watchful eye and gave a small shake of her head. "It really does smell good."

For the next few moments, the sounds of silverware clinking against plates and murmurs of appreciation mingled with snippets of conversation, punctuated by the laughter of father and son sharing bits of their day with each other. Brennan was contemplating a third slice when Parker spoke.

"Dad, why do you have Dr. Brennan's key?" The two adults shared a glance.

"What's that, sport?"

"We didn't have to knock on Dr. Brennan's door. You used her key."

"Well, Dr. Brennan gave me my own key, so I could come over whenever I wanted. I gave her a key to our place, too."

"Oh. Mom says you guys should just get one house, because you're always together. She told Grandma Hannah left because three people were one too many."

Booth choked on the mouthful of milk he'd just tried to swallow. When his coughing fit stopped, he took another, smaller sip and cleared his throat. "No, buddy. Hannah left..." he looked at Brennan for support; her small shrug basically said, "_You're on your own with this one!"_"Hannah left," he continued, "because she wanted a different life than I did. That's all. It had nothing to do with Dr. Brennan."

"Oh. Well, I like Dr. Brennan better anyway." Parker grinned at her and reached for another slice of pizza.

Booth and Brennan laughed. "I like you, too, Parker," Brennan smiled back.

"Actually, Parker, Dr. Brennan and I have something we wanted to tell you tonight." Booth reached for Brennan's hand and held it in his. "Dr. Brennan is going to have a baby." He squeezed her fingers. "Dr. Brennan and I are going to have a baby."

"You mean, like a baby brother?" Parker's brow wrinkled as he stared at his father.

"Or a baby sister," Brennan added.

Parker's expression was almost accusing as he looked at his father. "I thought you said Dr. Brennan wasn't your girlfriend."

"Well, she wasn't...then." Booth released Brennan's hand and leaned in closer to Parker.

"But she's your girlfriend now?"

Booth looked back at Brennan, his mouth opening and closing. "Well, no. Not exactly," he tried to explain. "She's...she's more than a girlfriend. She's..."

"Are you getting married?" Booth blinked. Of all the ways he'd thought Parker might respond, he had not guessed this one. "Mom said you guys didn't get married when I was born because she didn't want to." He looked directly at Brennan. "Do you want to marry my dad?"

"Parker . . . "

"Yes." Brennan's short response whipped Booth's head in her direction.

"Bones? You...you want to get married? You never said anything."

"You didn't ask."

Parker's delighted voice snapped the fragile threads of their conversation. "So, Dr. Brennan is going to be my stepmom? Can I call you 'Bones'?"

"No," Booth responded before Brennan could form an answer, unable to stop staring at Brennan. "That's a nickname. It's disrespectful, Parker."

"My name is Temperance, Parker," she offered. "My father and my brother call me Tempy." She lowered her voice and spoke softly to Booth. "I don't mind if he calls me Bones."

"No," Booth shook his head, his voice as soft as hers had been. "Really?" She knew that question had nothing to do with her name.

"Really." His delighted smile reminded her of the night she'd told him she was pregnant, drawing an equally bright smile on her own face.

Unaware of the momentous shift that had just taken place right in front of him, Parker interrupted again. "Are we going to move here? Can I have my own room?"

Tearing his gaze away from the sparkle in Brennan's eyes, Booth looked at his son. "We're still working on that, sport. It just depends . . ."

"Dad, she has a pool!"

Brennan laughed. "What ever we decide, Parker, you'll have your own room. I promise."

"Cool." All of the important issues resolved, Parker reached contentedly for another slice of pizza. Across from him, Brennan closed her eyes and raised her face to meet Booth's kiss. "Yuck! I'm eating, Dad!"

Chuckling, the adults parted with a look, silently promising to finish that kiss, and more, later.


	7. Travel Plans

**_Author's Note: I am truly amazed and quite thrilled at the reviews you've been kind enough to post. It definitely adds to the fun of writing this. Thank you all, very much. _**

* * *

><p>The forensic platform at The Jeffersonian was, during normal working hours, usually a somewhat loud working environment. The technical equipment scattered across the floor space hummed and beeped, whirred, rotated, and pinged. Printers spat out charts and graphs. And then there were the conversations of the technicians working there. Findings were discussed and argued, analyzed and questioned. The result was sometimes a loud cacophony of noise.<p>

One thing the forensic platform was not, was quiet.

Except now. To every person standing there, but one, the platform seemed to have gone completely silent. That one person, Dr. Temperance Brennan, seemed oblivious to the stunned silence of the people around her. Her attention was concentrated on the skull and torso lying on the table in front of her.

Cam took a deep breath and slowly placed the metal tray of instruments she had in her shaking hands on the nearest flat surface. She opened her mouth to speak and when nothing came out, cleared her throat roughly.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan. Could you repeat that?"

Brennan didn't look up from the remains. "I said I wanted to let you know that starting July 15, I'll be taking two weeks off." She looked up briefly. "I'm sorry, am I not giving you enough notice? It's still five weeks away."

"No, it's not the notice." A look passed between Cam, Hodgins and Wendall Bray. The other technicians on the platform stood rooted to the floor, afraid to make any movement that might draw attention and result in their banishment from this scene. "Did you say you were going on your honeymoon?"

"Yes, that's correct. Booth and I are getting married. We wanted the ceremony to take place at the end of this month but Jared and Padme can't be here that quickly." She looked up briefly to find everyone's eyes locked on her. "You're all invited. The details aren't final but when they are, I'll let everyone know."

Hodgins stepped forward. "You. And Booth. Are getting married. To each other."

"WHAT!" Angela stood just outside the security perimeter. "WHAT? Oh my God!" She rushed up the platform without scanning her card, setting off alarms and bells and lights, ignoring everything as she raced to pull Brennan into a fierce embrace. A security guard quickly silenced the alarms; the sudden quiet emphasized Angela's shrieks. Trapped by the hug, Brennan was forced to bounce slightly as Angela jumped up and down. "When? When did this happen? How did he propose? Tell me everything! Oh, my God! Brennan!"

Angela's happiness had unlocked the silence on the platform, smiles and congratulations coming from every side as Brennan was surrounded by well-wishes.

When Angela loosened her hold briefly, Brennan returned her hug. "I was going to ask you in private, but I'd like you to be my Matron of Honor, of course." Another ear-splitting shriek filled the room as Angela grabbed Brennan again in a bouncing hug.

When Angela finally released her, both she and Brennan were wearing the same big, silly grins. "Okay," she said. "Tell me. Everything."

Brennan looked back at the torso laid out behind her. "Perhaps we should wait until we're finished with this victim before we move on to personal topics."

"He's dead, Brennan." Angela shook her head. "And you're close to it if you don't tell me everything right now!"

"I think we can spare a few minutes, Dr. Brennan," Cam smiled. "Especially for news of this . . . magnitude."

"See!" Angela almost bounced again. "Spill! When did this happen?"

Brennan gave in. "Last night."

"I'm more interested in how long you and Booth have been...well, you and Booth?" Cam interjected.

Brennan looked briefly toward Angela. "Booth and I . . . became. . . . close . . . . following the death of Mr. Nigel-Murray."

"That was just a couple of months ago." Cam frowned. "And now you're getting married in a few weeks?"

"And it's about time! Oh, my God, Brennan!" Angela rushed forward to wrap her up again. She picked up Brennan's left hand. "Where's the ring? How did he propose? Tell me everything!"

"There is no ring. I don't want a ring. A ring would just get in the way of my work." Brennan paused and then laughed. "I think Parker is the one who actually proposed." She smiled at the memory. "He asked me if I wanted to marry his dad, and I realized," she paused and looked at Angela. "I realized I did. I wanted that very much."

Angela thought she would explode with the happiness she felt for her very best friend. She grabbed Brennan in a hug again, rocking her back and forth, whispering her happiness in Brennan's ear.

"That's a very traditional thought, for you in particular Dr. Brennan." Cam inserted. "I have to admit, I'm quite surprised."

Angela and Brennan separated, both blinking back tears. Brennan looked into Cam's eyes, reading her concern for Booth there. She raised her chin fractionally. "Yes. I find that I can see more value in certain traditions than I previously understood. And I have decided that I want to be a part of those traditions." Cam looked at Brennan's face, saw the determination there and backed down.

"Then, let me offer my congratulations to both of you, Dr. Brennan."

"Thank you, Dr. Saroyan."

Into this suddenly tense atmosphere, a voice called out from the doorway to the forensic lab. "What's going on up there? Anyone got anything for me?"

Angela's shrieks filled the room again as she raced down the platform to throw herself into Booth's arms. "Brennan just told us! I'm so happy for you!"

Booth caught Brennan's eye over Angela's shoulder, sharing a broad grin as the rest of the team came down to shake his hand or pull him into a hug and offer congratulations.

Angela moved aside but was close enough to punch his shoulder playfully. "You sly dog, getting Parker to do your proposing for you! Who can resist Parker?"

"Hey, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," Booth laughed. "Parker was great. He didn't even bat an eye at being a big brother."

There was a split second of silence in his group of well-wishers. "Big brother?' said Hodgins.

"Parker gets the pool, we get the baby. That's a fair trade, right?" In the silence, Booth caught Brennan's eye. She caught her lip and gave him a small smile, wincing as Angela's voice echoed through the lab.

"A BABY?"


	8. Suits and Pens

Brennan looked over uncertainly at Booth. He felt her gaze, but didn't take his eyes from the road. She sighed.

"You're angry at me."

"What?" He glanced over briefly. "No, I'm not angry." He looked back at the road and hunched his shoulders slightly. "I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed that you think we have to do this."

"Statistically speaking, Booth, between 40 and 50% of first marriages end in divorce. My attorneys advised me that it would be fiscally irresponsible not to have a prenuptial agreement."

"We're not statistics, Bones." Booth shot her a glance, the fingers of his left hand tapping on the steering wheel. "You and me, we are not statistics."

"Technically, we are part of . . . " her voice faded away as she noticed his eyes narrow at the road. She placed her hand on his thigh, letting it rest there as the drive continued in silence. A mile or so passed before Booth removed one hand from the steering wheel and covered hers, threading their fingers together.

x - x - x - x

* * *

><p>x - x - x - x<p>

"Dr. Brennan! How nice to see you again!" The man walking toward them, hand outstretched, was nothing like any other attorney Booth had ever met. He was almost 7 feet tall and bald, his suit coat straining over heavily muscled arms and shoulders. One large square diamond glinted in each ear, a bright contrast to his deep ebony skin.

"Felix," Brennan smiled and came forward to take his hand. "I appreciate your taking care of this so quickly."

"This is your lawyer?" Booth murmured quietly. "He looks like a pirate!"

"Just remember this when I break out of jail," his wide smile gleamed.

Brennan laughed and looked at Booth. "I modeled the killer in my last book after Felix. Only in physical appearance, of course."

"You must be Agent Booth," Felix's wide, strong hand closed firmly around Booth's. "Felix Patterson. I'm happy to meet you, and please accept my congratulations. Dr. Brennan is quite special."

"Yes, she is," Booth agreed. His hand moved to the small of her back as Felix led them down a modern, glass-walled hallway to a nearby conference room. With a flip of a switch, the glass outer wall of the room went smokey gray, concealing the occupants from the curious stares of passers-by.

"Please, have a seat." Booth seated Brennan on one long side of the table, and sat down next to her. "Before we get into details of the prenuptial agreement, it is important to know where you each stand financially. Agent Booth, using the information you provided I've compiled this list of your assets and liabilities." Felix passed copies of two stapled sheets of paper to both Brennan and Booth.

Turning to the credenza behind him, he then picked up three large black binders and slid them across the table to Booth. "This is a compilation of Dr. Brennan's assets, investments and properties, as well as copies of her contracts with her agent and publisher and the production studio currently holding the movie rights to her first three novels." He placed another set of the three binders in front of Brennan. "I'd like Samuel L. Jackson to play me, if you have any pull," he grinned.

Booth left the binders untouched. "Bones," he whispered, "just how much money do you have?"

Felix's deep voice interrupted. "I know this is a lot of material, so we also prepared this simple spreadsheet." He quietly placed a single spaced page in front of each of them. "Dr. Brennan, your publishing house forwarded the final installment of the advance for your next book. For convenience sake, the total amount of your latest advance is shown here." One well-manicured finger tapped a line in emphasis.

Booth's eyes widened. "That's how much you make for one book?"

Brennan looked up briefly from her study of the page in front of her. "No. That's the advance. Minus my agent's fee, of course. And what I pay Angela," she mumbled. At Booth's questioning look, she focused determinedly on the spreadsheet. "For research," she whispered, sneaking a side glance at him. "Which may no longer be necessary," she added, her cheeks pink.

"Oh, right." A slow grin crossed Booth's face. "Page 187." He leaned over to whisper in Brennan's ear, his lips so close they brushed the delicate outer shell, sending a shiver of response through her. "Remind me to tell Angela thank you."

Under the table, she stomped his toes. With a chuckle, Booth straightened and focused again on the documents in front of him.

"Related to Dr. Brennan's liabilities, she has asked us to prepare several trusts," Felix continued, opening a manila folder. "This is the paperwork for the education trust funds you asked to be established. Agent Booth, if you could just review the documents related to your son, Parker, and make sure his information is correct." Felix pulled one set of documents from the file and put them in front of Booth. "And this trust is identical, Dr. Brennan, with the name and details of the child, of course, to be filled in later." Felix smiled at the couple. "These trusts are easily duplicated, in the event other children are born to you in the future."

Booth gently touched the imprint of his son's name on the form. "Bones, you..." he swallowed. "You arranged a trust fund for Parker?"

"For his education, yes, of course." Brennan looked up in sudden alarm. "Is that acceptable? Should we ask Rebecca first? I thought that since I was setting one up for our child that . . . well, Parker is your child, too, and . . . Booth?" She couldn't decipher his expression. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Bones," he shook his head slowly. "You didn't do anything wrong. Excuse me," he said to Felix, then cupped Brennan's face in his hands and kissed her fiercely. "Thank you," he said against her lips as he pulled back.

"Yes . . . well . . ." Flustered, Brennan smoothed her hair.

Felix coughed to hide a smile. "May I proceed?" At their nods, he opened another folder. "This document creates and endows the _Christine Brennan Excellence in Science Scholarship for Women_." Brennan eagerly picked up the pages he passed to her. "This document," Felix continued, "creates and endows the _Hank J. Booth Scholarship for Graduate Studies in Criminal Science_."

Brennan looked up to find Booth's gaze locked on her. "It was just an idea I had. Because Hank was an MP and you . . . the FBI . . . "

"Would you like to kiss her again?" Felix offered. When the couple across from him gave no sign of having heard him, Felix Patterson grabbed their attention by offering a third document, laying copies on the table with the flourish of a magician removing his cape from the final trick.

"This document creates the _Temperance Brennan – Seeley Booth Heirloom Education Fund_." Brennan watched Booth carefully as Felix explained. "In addition to the education trusts for your children, Dr. Brennan has asked that moneys be set aside to fund the education of future generations – grandchildren, great-grandchildren, into the future so long as the fund remains solvent."

"Bones . . ." Booth said quietly, slowly shaking his head.

"Education is very important, Booth," she said. "I would like to ensure that our descendants have access to the best opportunities possible."

"You do something that amazes me every day, do you know that?"

"Well," Brennan smiled. "I do have many different facets."

Felix cleared his throat and continued. "You are both welcome to take these documents home with you to review further. I can arrange a courier to pick them up when they're signed. And now I'd like to go over the details of the prenuptial agreement." He opened his last folder and passed over copies. "Dr. Brennan has requested that the amount being set aside for the education funds and scholarships I've already mentioned be specifically excluded from the dollar amounts referenced on Page Three. If you could turn to Page 3, Section A, Paragraph 4 . . . "

Forty-five minutes later, Booth opened the passenger door of the SUV for Brennan. In his own seat, he paused before putting the vehicle in gear.

"I owe you an apology, Bones." His expression was serious. "I thought this was about money - what you have, what I don't." He shrugged. "I was wrong."

"Why? We both know my earnings far outpace yours, Booth. There are my books, and the movie rights. And, I've recently been offered the opportunity to consult on scripts for a forensics television show. That will be very lucrative."

"_More_ money? Wow." Booth shook his head. "I thought it was about money, but what you did in there, just now? That wasn't about money. That was about us. Our family. A hundred years from now, Bones, our great great great grandchildren are going to be graduating from college because you thought about them today."

"We can't know that, Booth. There are so many factors involved, including the price of tuition. Even at state universities, tuition costs have . . . " Booth quieted her with a kiss.

"Thank you, Bones." He put the SUV into gear, checked his mirrors and pulled into traffic. "You know what else? We are definitely going to talk about that 153 inch plasma TV. "

"Booth, we don't even have a place to put a TV that large."

"Oh, I can find a place."

"You don't even watch TV."

"I would watch it on a 153 inch plasma TV."

"I prefer to read."

"You read. I'm watching TV. On a 153 inch plasma."


	9. Second Thoughts

"Am I interrupting?" The voice and the light rap broke into Booth's conversation with Agent Shaw.

"Cam, come on in," Booth invited. "This is Agent Shaw. Agent Shaw, Dr. Saroyan of The Jeffersonian. She works for Dr. Brennan in the lab."

Cam's expression was somewhere between a grimace and a smile. "Technically, I'm the boss. Which no one seems to remember." The two women shook hands cordially, and Agent Shaw took her leave. Booth gestured Cam into a chair and stepped behind his desk to his own seat.

"So . . ." he looked at her enquiringly?

"So . . . " she nodded.

The silence stretched. Booth raised an eyebrow.

"So . . . " Cam repeated. "You and Dr. Brennan. Married."

Booth's grin stretched across his face. "Yep." He leaned back in the chair, flipping a pen repeatedly, letting it tap lightly on the blotter on his desk. "24 days to go! Can you believe that?"

"No," Cam answered, shaking her head slightly. "No, I can't." She crossed her legs and leaned forward. "Seeley . . . I am happy for you. Really, I am. If this is what you want, I'm happy. For both of you. But . . . are you sure?"

The pen stopped flipping in mid-turn, Booth's grin fading. "Where are you going with this, Cam?"

"I just want you to be sure, Seeley. This is so sudden! Everything has happened so fast! Dr. Brennan said you became close after Vincent was killed, and now . . . you're getting married! Don't you think that's a little fast?" she appealed to him.

"So, you have a problem with me and Bones?"

"No . . . yes . . ." she sighed and sat back. "I don't know." She shook her head again. "We had a cake tasting in the lab yesterday, Seeley. A cake tasting."

"Hey, that was good cake." His grin was back.

"When I left, a few minutes ago? Angela was in Dr. Brennan's office and they were sitting on the floor surrounded by bridal magazines." Cam widened her eyes. "Bridal magazines." She leaned forward again. "They squealed, Seeley. Like 12 year old girls."

Booth rotated in his chair, looking down at his desk and biting his lip to hold in a burst of laughter.

"She's consulting with Dr. Hodgins about flowers and pollen levels because she doesn't want her bouquet to cause her to sneeze during your vows!"

Booth lost it. His laugh rang out loudly; more than one agent in the cubicles outside his office popped a head above the walls to glance over. Cam watched him disbelievingly.

"You know Bones, Cam. She doesn't do anything halfway."

"Ya think? Seeley, I really want to be happy for you. For both of you. I mean," flustered, Cam struggled for the right words. "I am happy for you. But . . . this is just so fast. So fast. You proposed to Hannah in February, and now, Boom! Dr. Brennan is pregnant and you're getting married next month."

_"Boom! Mama Bones!"_Booth murmured quietly, smiling to himself.

"What?" Cam shook her head. "I know it's none of my business, but are you sure? You're sure this isn't because Hannah . . . "

"No, it's not your business, Cam. Look, I appreciate your concern and where it comes from. But Hannah was . . . " he stopped and looked at her directly. "Bones understands about Hannah. And that's all that matters."

Dr. Saroyan nodded. "Yes, you're right. But . . . " she had to ask, one last time. "It's so sudden, Seeley. So sudden."

Booth gave her his lopsided, dimpled grin. "It's only sudden to you, Cam. For me, 'sudden' took almost ten years to happen." He swiveled in his chair to stare out the window. "Did I ever tell you what happened when you sent me over to meet her?" He glanced over briefly. "I looked at her and . . . the world shifted. She was standing up there, talking about dead bodies and I asked something, I don't remember what, and she looked at me and the earth moved. I felt it." He smiled ruefully at his romanticism and turned back to Cam. "I've been trying to find my footing ever since. And this . . . this is what solid ground feels like. Finally."

Cam inhaled deeply, blinking rapidly as moisture filled her eyes. "'_I'm with Bones, all the way_,' " she quoted.

"All the way."

"Well," Cam stood up. "I'm happy for you, Seeley. For you, and for Dr. Brennan."

"Camille." Booth's voice stopped her. "Thank you."

Dr. Saroyan smiled and nodded, and walked away.


	10. Something Old

"You and Angela sounded like you were having fun this morning." Booth tossed a grin at Brennan, sitting next to him as they drove into Pennsylvania. "What was so funny?"

Brennan shrugged. "Can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Angela said I couldn't." Brennan turned to her window to hide a smile.

"Come on . . . tell me . . . " Booth reached out and tucked one hand under her knee, tickling lightly. "Tell me . . . "

She slapped his hand away, laughing. "Stop! Angela said no."'

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Booth reached for her hand. "This wedding . . . stuff. The girly stuff. You like it. Admit it."

Brennan gave him a look that communicated she clearly wanted to deny what he'd just said, but . . . "I . . . am. I'm surprised at how much. I've been researching bridal traditions and I find it amazing what a wide variety there are. Most of them are not appropriate for our ceremony, of course, but . . . I find them interesting, nonetheless."

"You're having fun."

"Yes."

"You're full of surprises, Temperance Brennan." He smiled broadly as he pulled into parking lot of the assisted living center. "Full of surprises. And speaking of surprises, look who's waiting for us!"

Hank stood at the door as they walked together toward the entrance to the center. Hank waved him off as Booth stepped forward. "I'll get to you later, shrimp. Let the pretty lady go first." He pulled Brennan into a hug. "So you're finally making an honest man out of my grandson!"

"No," Brennan replied, shaking her head. "Booth is a very honest man, Hank. I had nothing to do with that."

"Right," Hank smiled. He grabbed Booth, adding a slap on the back to his hug. "Well, come on in. There's a bunch of old people in here who want to get a look at both of you."

For the next half-hour, Brennan and Booth were the center of attention, accepting the congratulations and dry cookies offered them with equal grace. Brennan was pulled into a group of women to answer questions about her upcoming nuptials and listen to still vivid descriptions of wedding days that had taken place decades earlier. Booth, meanwhile, was subjected to a somewhat more ribald conversation as Hank and his friends pressed him with well-meaning, off-color advice.

"If you get confused on your wedding night," offered one ancient gentleman in a voice that quavered with age, "just call here and we'll walk you through it, right Hank?"

"What was that?" asked another who, judging by the fact that he'd asked the same question at least eight times, was in dire need of new batteries for his hearing aid.

"Never mind, Fred," Hank yelled in his ear. "We'll tell you later!"

Finally, Hank ended the gathering. "Okay, okay, party's over. I've got something to say to my grandson and his bride. Get moving, all of you!" The room slowly emptied, until the three of them were left alone. Booth shook his head and smiled at Brennan, who laughed softly.

"That was quite amusing."

"You did great, Bones."

"So," Hank began, slapping his legs as they sat down. "I didn't bring you all the way up here so my friends could explain the birds and the bees to you, shrimp. I've got something I want to give you."

Hank reached in his pocket, pulling out a small, faded velvet box. He turned it over in his hands slowly. "I've been doing some thinking, and I want you two to have these." He handed the box to Brennan.

Nestled inside, on equally faded velvet, were two simple broad white wedding bands. "Pops . . . " Booth quiet voice was rough.

"They were your grandmother's and mine," Hank said, watching Brennan gently remove the smaller band. He smiled as she held the ring at an angle to read the engraving that, while faded and worn from age and use, was still visible. "I had them all polished and cleaned up for you. Look almost as good as when I bought them."

"Booth," she whispered, offering him the ring.

"_Forever starts today May 15, 1941" _he read softly.

"That was your grandmother's idea," Hank sat back. "Margaret was sentimental like that," he smiled in memory. "Now, you don't have to wear them." He said with a wave of his hand. "I know they're pretty plain, nothing like the, what do they call it? the bling bling you young people want today, but I wanted you to have them anyway. I thought your bone lady, seeing as how she likes old things, might appreciate them. They have 32 years in 'em, but I figure they have another 30, 40, 50 years left . . . Oompf . . . . "

Hank's voice left him abruptly as Brennan launched herself at him, tears streaming, her arms wrapping around him. Booth made to get up.

"Back off, shrimp," Hank said over Brennan's shoulder. "Been too long since I've had a pretty girl crying on my shoulder. I can handle this." He rubbed and patted her back until the tears abated somewhat. He kissed her cheek and pushed her in Booth's direction. "Now, go let my boy kiss you before he goes nuts."

Brennan moved to Booth's waiting embrace. He kissed her temple, looking at Hank, allowing his grandfather to see the tears shining in his own eyes. Hank watched the two of them, smiling.

"Hank," Brennan said, when she could finally speak. "I would be honored to wear this ring. I am honored that you . . ." her voice faded as tears threatened again.

"Yea, Pops," Booth added. "Thank you."

Hank nodded. "Well, what are they gonna do, sit in a drawer until I kick up my toes? Better you should have them."

"Yea, Pops." The two men exchanged the same half smile as a bell sounded overhead.

"Hey, that's dinner. You kids want to stay? I'm pretty sure tonight is chocolate pudding night."

After declining the invitation to stay for dinner, after final hugs and goodbyes and a kiss from Brennan, they were on their way home. Brennan held the small box in her hands as the SUV ate up the miles. A few minutes of silence passed, then Booth reached out a hand to cover the box in hers.

"Forever starts today," he quoted softly.

Brennan looked at him, one single tear escaping, and nodded, unable to speak.


	11. Something New

"Why is it whenever I stop in to see you, you're always working?" Max asked as he sauntered into Brennan's office.

"Because this is The Jeffersonian Institute, Dad and that's what I do here. Work." Brennan smiled at her father.

"Yea . . . I guess that's right," he nodded, taking a seat on her sofa. "How are you feeling? You look a lot better today."

"The nausea seems to have passed so I feel much better. I find myself tiring easily, but I'm told that's normal at this stage. Dad," she continued, shaking her head. "I'm not sure this is a good time for you to be here. Booth is coming to pick me up for lunch and he is not happy with you."

"Oh, you're worrying about nothing, Tempy. Booth and I have an understanding."

"You punched him, Dad."

"That's our understanding." He patted the sofa next to him. "Besides, I'm here to see you. I have something for you."

"For me?" A small smile lighting her face, she sat down next to him. He placed a small, square box in her hand, wrapped with a silver bow. She untied it slowly, stretching out the moment.

Opening the box, she caught her breath. Nestled inside was a gleaming silver ornamental hair comb. Resting on top of the comb was a dolphin, approximately two inches long, made of tiny, glittering diamonds that sparkled with fire and color as she lifted it into the light. "Dad . . ." she whispered.

"I had this made for you, for your mother. When you do whatever it is you women do with your hair for something like this, I thought you might be able to wear it. So a little part of her could be with you on your wedding day."

"Dad . . ." she threw her arms around his neck, sniffling. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

"She would be so proud of you, Tempy." Max murmured. Brennan nodded against his neck.

"Thank you, Dad. Thank you."

"Is she crying?" Booth's voice interrupted the moment. "Bones, are you crying? Max, what did you do?" he asked, glaring at her father.

Max just smiled. "Relax, kid. She's fine."

"I am fine, Booth," she said, rising. "Dad brought me this." She came to him, showing him the open box. "It's a dolphin. For my mother."

Booth draped an arm around her, sparing a quick glance at the gift, before looking back at Max with narrowed eyes. "I don't like you upsetting her. So, don't do it."

"She's not upset. She's happy, aren't you, sweetheart?"

"Happy women don't cry." Booth took a step closer.

"Happy pregnant women cry at greeting card commercials." Max matched his step.

"Since you know that, you should have been more careful!" One more step.

"It's not like I meant to make her cry!" Step.

"That's what I mean, you should be more careful from now on!" Booth's small step forward put him nose to nose with Max.

"Having a father/son-in-law chat, are we?" Angela peeked in from the doorway. "Who's winning?"

Booth and Max glared at the interruption. "I am!"

"Okay," Angela responded, eyebrows raised. "Lunch, anyone?"

"I'm starved," Max replied. "Where are we going?"

"Don't push it, Max," Booth gritted out. "I owe you."

"What, that little tap? That was just to get your attention. Besides, Caroline said you can't arrest me anymore."

Brennan and Booth exchanged a glance. "How do you know that Caroline said that, Dad?"

"Oh, we had dinner last night. And a nice, long conversation." Max smiled, took Angela's arm and walked her out of the office. "Now, where are we going for lunch?"

"They had dinner together?"

"Caroline and Max?"

They hurried out to catch up.

"Dad!"

"Max!"


	12. Something Borrowed

**_Authors Note: Thanks for continuing to read my silly, fluffy little story. I know it's not real. I know this is definitely not the kind of thing HH&Co will give us. But, it makes me happy to make Booth and Brennan happy. Happy is good! So, thank you for coming along for the ride, and for the wonderful things you've said in the reviews that you've left. They are much appreciated.  
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"Angela, that was excellent, really. I didn't know you were such a good cook." Brennan put down her fork and laid a hand over her abdomen. "I may have eaten too much."

Around the table, Hodgins and Booth added their agreement as the sound of an infant's cry filtered in. Hodgins left briefly, returning with the baby lying against his shoulder, loudly announcing his entry. He passed Michael to Angela with a kiss. "How about you take care of Number One Son and I'll take care of clearing the table."

Booth stood up and began gathering plates. "Yes, the men will do the kitchen work and the women can do the baby work." As he passed by Brennan on his way into the kitchen, he leaned down to steal a kiss. With a laugh, she rose and followed Angela into the living area.

Angela seated herself efficiently, settling the baby to nurse. Brennan watched carefully. "Is that uncomfortable?" she indicated the nursing child.

"Not anymore. It was, at first," Angela admitted. "But we got used to it, didn't we, fella?" she cooed down to her son. "It's so beautiful, Brennan. When you look at him and he's looking up at you, it's like you can feel the threads of love and motherhood winding around you. Have you thought about it? Are you going to?"

"Yes, I think so. I've thought about it," she admitted. "Medically, breastfeeding is the most healthful way to deliver nutrients to an infant, especially in the first few weeks of life."

"Yea," Angela smiled. "That, too."

Brennan wandered to the doors leading to the balcony and looked out. "You have a beautiful view of the city, Angela. It's quite visually stunning."

"Oh, I have several weekends planned with my easel out there, believe you me." Angela paused and adjusted the baby on the other side. "You know, Brennan . . . there's a place on the 10th floor that's for sale. If you guys decide you need more room, a bigger place, that's an option." She grinned. "We could be neighbors!"

"Really?" Brennan replied. "That's very interesting."

"What's very interesting?" Booth asked as he and Hodgins entered the room. "Oh! Wow! Look at that view!" he continued loudly, suddenly noticing that Angela was nursing Michael. Very deliberately, he walked to the balcony and focused his attention outside.

""Booth, she's just nursing an infant. It's a very natural behavior. There's nothing sexual about a woman's breast - "

"Bones! We are not going to talk about Angela's . . . Angela, okay?" He shook his head, staring out.

"Okay," she said, hiding a smile. "Angela just told me there is a unit in this building for sale. That's what was interesting...before you noticed her breast was being used to feed her child."

"Bones!"

"Sorry."

"So, what about the condo?"

"I suggest we take a look at it. We will definitely need more room, for the baby and for Parker."

"Does this building have a pool?" Booth smiled.

"Yes, it does," Angela replied. "And we're done over here so it's safe to turn around." She had Michael on her shoulder, patting his back firmly.

For the next while, the attention focused on Jack and Angela's baby boy. He was passed around and kissed and hugged and cuddled until his eyes fluttered shut and remained closed. When Angela returned from settling him in his nursery, she sat on the arm of Jack's chair.

"So," Hodgins began. "Angela tells me you two haven't yet decided where to go on your honeymoon."

"We're still discussing it," Brennan said, with a grimace at Booth.

"Bones doesn't understand the word 'honeymoon,'" Booth answered, stretching his hand out over the word 'honeymoon.'

"Of course I understand the word, Booth. The word "honeymoon" derived originally from . . . "

"Not what I meant, Bones." Booth raised his eyebrows at Hodgins. "She wants me to go with her to Peru for two weeks, to help on an archeology dig. That's not a honeymoon, Bones."

"You want to travel to as many baseball parks as possible in two weeks. I don't believe that is a very good idea for a honeymoon."

Angela and Jack shared a smile. "Well, Hodgins and I had an idea." Angela retrieved a small photo from the desk in the corner and passed it them.

"Angela, isn't this the cottage your ex-husband built for you?" asked Brennan. "The one on Fiji? I thought you planned to sell it?"

"We did. We do," said Hodgins. "But there's not a lot of demand for a cottage on Fiji, so it's still ours."

"It's lovely, Brennan," Angela enthused. "Hodgins and I spent some time there while were living in Paris. It's all bleached wood and open spaces and the sound of the waves and the smell of the salt water. And," she leaned forward, "it's completely private. You can walk out the front door and swim naked in the sea or lie on the beach and . . . Well," she grinned coyly, "It's completely private."

"Wow!" Booth enthused. He nudged Brennan with his shoulder, smiling at her with a lift of his eyebrows. "What do you think, Bones? Salt . . . sand . . . the water . . . privacy . . ." The timber of his voice dropped as his eyes gleamed into hers.

"I think," she murmured, smiling back at him before turning to Jack and Angela. "I think we would be pleased to accept your offer."

On seeing the couple exchange a private smile, Angela slid Hodgins a side glance, unobtrusively dropping her hand to lie flat in front of him. Jack, with a grin of his own, slapped it lightly in a victory.


	13. Something Blue

"So, how about it, sport?" Booth asked Parker as they walked through the empty rooms. "Think you could live here?"

"Is the pool really on the roof, Dr . . . Temperance?" Parker asked Brennan.

"It is really on the roof," she responded. "But it's very well constructed. The engineering specifications are quite sound."

"Wait, Parker, you haven't heard the best part!" Booth pulled him into a large room off the entry hallway. He spread his hands wide toward one wall. "Picture it . . . right here . . . 153 inch plasma TV. Huh? Right? Right? That's what I'm talking about!"

"Really? Cool, Dad!" Booth and Parker exchanged high-fives. Laughing, Booth smiled at Brennan, who shook her head and smiled back.

They continued wandering their way through the rooms. "I can pick out my own room, too? Any of them?"

"Well, not any of them," Booth answered. "The big one, that's ours. And," Booth shared a look with Brennan, "the one with the pale pink walls? You might want to let your sister have that one."

"Sister?" Parker looked faintly disappointed. "Figures," he sighed. "Hey, can I name it?"

"She's not an 'it,'" Booth scolded, giving his son's shoulder a poke. "And no, you can't name her."

"Why not?"

"I see no reason he can't be involved, Booth." Brennan interjected.

"Bones, you want our kid named after a Power Ranger?" Booth shook his head.

"Power Ranger?" Parker snorted. "Dad, I'm not six years old anymore!"

"It's important for older children to be involved when a new child enters the family, Booth," Brennan said. "It helps to strengthen the bond between siblings and increase the sense of attachment."

"I can pick a good name, Dad."

Booth grimaced at Brennan. "Okay, Parker. The middle name. You can help with the middle name. And no cartoon characters!"

Parker looked at Brennan and rolled his eyes. "What was your mom's name Dr . . . Temperance?"

Brennan smiled down at him. "She was originally called Ruth, but I always knew her as Christine."

Parker nodded, considering, and wandered down the hall to peer into rooms.

"This is not going to end well," Booth warned, nodding his head toward Parker.

"Nonsense, Booth. How bad can it be?"

"You'll see. Just wait until he wants to name her She-Ra or Buttercup."

x – x – x – x

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Booth poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down at the table, picking up the sports page again. "You remembered I'm meeting tonight with Caroline and Agent Shaw, right, so I can brief them on the status of my active cases? Shaw is going to be handling things while we're . . ." he leaned over slightly and wiggled his eyebrows . . . "honeymooning."

Brennan looked up with a smile from the journal she was reading. "I remembered. I have several projects to finish up myself. I'll be fine." She returned to her journal briefly, then glanced casually in his direction. "Oh, and according to Angela, you can't sleep here next week. You are required to stay in your own apartment."

"What?" Booth's head jerked up. "No." He shook his head. "Why?"

"Angela says that it's tradition."

"What?" His expression echoed his confusion. "I've never heard of that tradition, Bones. And I'm staying right here. With you."

"Angela suggests that a period of conjugal separation will enhance the emotional intensity of our wedding night." Brennan sipped delicately from her glass of juice.

"Hey . . .whoa . . . wait a minute." Booth pushed back in his chair. "No. Our conjugal does not need to be separated, okay? Our wedding night will be plenty enhanced, Bones. Trust me. No." He shook his head determinedly. "Angela, she doesn't know what she's talking about. I'm staying right here," he repeated.

"Angela insists."

Booth shook his head again, confused. "So, you . . . you don't want to see me next week?"

"Of course I want to see you, Booth. Don't be ridiculous. You can come to the lab," she offered. "Or I can come to your office. We can have lunch, and dinner." She bit her lip. "We just can't have sex."

"Well, why can't I stay here, then? We can still sleep together, and we won't make love." Brennan raised her eyebrows and simply looked at him. "Right." He sighed. "I've gotten used to being next to you, Bones," he said to her softly. "I like the feel of you, you know, the way you hook your leg over mine like you're afraid I'm going to run away in the night." He shrugged. "It's going to be way too quiet at my place without you snoring . . ."

She opened her mouth to reply indignantly and closed it when she saw his grin. "I'll miss you, too. But, it's only a week."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Then, Booth leaned in, his eyes glinting.

"So, when does this enforced conjugal separation begin?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

A smile crept across her lips. "I believe Sunday would be an adequate starting date." Her tone matched his.

"Today is Thursday."

"Yes, it is."

"You'll be late."

"So will you."

"I don't care."

"Nor do I."

His hand tangled in her hair, Booth brought her in to meet his kiss.

x – x – x – x

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Angela was standing outside Cam's office talking with her and Hodgins when Booth stalked into the lab later that day. He ignored their greetings; cupping Angela's shoulders and turning her firmly toward her office, he forcefully propelled her forward. "Need a moment with Angela," he called over his shoulder at the confused Cam and Hodgins.

"Booth, what . . ." His pace increased. "You know, this would have been a lot more fun if you'd done it before I married Hodgins," she teased. Once inside her office, Booth turned her to face him and stood glaring at her, arms crossed in front of his chest.

A silent moment passed.

"What?" asked Angela.

"What are you doing, with this _conjugal separation_ stuff?" Booth's glare sizzled.

"Conjugal what?"

"Why did you tell Bones we had to sleep apart next week?" he bit out.

"Oh, that," Angel's smile was pure devilment.

"'Oh, that,'" Booth mimicked. "Bones and I, we don't need anything enhanced for our wedding night, okay?" He tapped a foot in frustration. "Not that it concerns you, but I've got that covered."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," Angela smirked. "Brennan is obviously very well . . . enhanced."

Booth narrowed his eyes. "You two don't . . . she doesn't . . ."

Angela laughed. "Relax, big boy. Brennan is very discreet. I don't get nearly the juicy details I want. You know," she smirked again. "You could always fill in the blank spots for me, if you wanted to. I've got some time now. And a sketch pad if you want to draw me a picture."

Booth just glared and tightened his arms where they lay crossed against his chest. "No. So, then . . . she's happy. I'm happy . . . why are you messing with that?"

"Messing with it?" Angela shook her head. "No, no. You don't get it. I'm not messing with it. I'm making it better."

"Making it better by keeping us apart? How, exactly, does that work?"

"If I could have stopped you from seeing her a month ago, I would have. But, I'll settle for a week."

"You don't want me to see Bones for a month?"

"No," Angela sighed. "I want her to see you after you haven't seen her."

"Isn't that what I said?"

"No." Angela shook her head again. "You really don't get it. Sit down." She gestured to the sofa. She began to pace. "You know Brennan lost her parents when she was 15."

"She didn't lose them. They abandoned her when she was 15. I know that, Angela." Booth's eyes followed her as she paced.

"Yea, you know that. But you don't know what it was like for a 15 year old girl to be abandoned by the people who loved her. By the only people who appreciated her for what she was, a nerdy, weird, geeky girl whose best friend was the creepy janitor guy who brought her dead animals to cut up. Did you know that she could go weeks without talking to anyone, except maybe answering questions from the teacher? And it wasn't because she didn't want to talk to anyone, it was because no one wanted to talk to her. She was just that weird girl who acted as if she were smarter than everyone else, and even worse, she really was smarter than everyone else."

"And then," Angela continued, "she was shunted off into foster care, where not only did no one want to talk to her, no one actually wanted her, period. And none of the homes ever lasted because, you know, if you don't know Brennan she can make you feel pretty stupid and none of those foster families ever took the time to get to know her. So, she made them feel stupid and they got rid of her. Passed her along to someone else."

"Until her grandfather got her out. I know, Angela. What does this have to do with us sleeping apart next week?"

Angela shook her head. "Booth, have you ever heard Brennan mention her grandparents? Ever?" Booth considered, his eyes narrowing. "Yea." She sighed heavily. "I don't know for sure. She's never said anything or admitted anything to me. But, I don't believe he exists. I think that at some point, she created someone who loved her, because no one really did, and then she forgot about him because she found us."

"All Brennan has had since she was 15 years old is what she could prove to be true. Facts don't lie. Facts don't leave. But the last few weeks . . . Booth, I saw something else." She sat next to him, turning her body so that she could face him. "Every little girl, even if just for a fraction of a second, believes in fairy tales. And when we're grown up and we're looking at things like wedding magazines, we find the biggest, fluffiest, frilliest dress and for just an instant, we see ourselves as a fairy princess in that dress." Angela chuckled softly. "And then we laugh because the dress is usually hideously ridiculous and tacky and awful. But for just that second, we're that little girl again. Booth," she grabbed his hand. "I saw Brennan's little girl. The little girl she doesn't believe ever existed. I saw her!"

"Brennan's whole life has been about proving that fairy tales are myths, they don't exist. And yet," she smiled gently, "here you are. Prince Charming. Proving to her that love is real. Offering her a happy ever after."

"I want Brennan to see that. When she stands at the door of that little chapel and looks at you, up there waiting for her, I want her to know that every time you look at her, it brings you to your knees. And that night, when you close the door and shut out the rest of the world, I want it to be more than just great sex or even great lovemaking. I want her to have the fairy tale. I want . . . I want . . . " she struggled for words.

"Breaking the laws of physics," Booth said quietly.

"No," Angela shook her head. "Physics are facts. Brennan knows facts." She nodded to herself. "Magic. She deserves magic." Looking at Booth, she added, "I'm taking a few nights away so you can figure out how to make Brennan believe in magic." She patted his cheek. "Don't let me down."

"Magic," Booth grinned at her. "I can do magic."

"Of course you can."

x – x – x – x

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Brennan turned over restlessly - again - and punched her pillow into shape - again - then flopped on her back, eyes staring wide in the darkness. When her cell phone buzzed from the bedside table, she had it in hand before the first sounds faded away.

"Booth?"

"I can't sleep."

"Nor can I."

"I miss you."

"I believe we have been sharing the same bed long enough that my normal sleeping patterns have changed."

"Bones, just say you miss me, too."

She sighed. "I miss you, too." Her fingers twisted the bedclothes. "Maybe I should discuss this with Angela further. It's possible she might reconsider the length of this conjugal separation."

"No, don't do that. It's only four more nights, right? We can do that."

"You think so?"

"Sure. There's always late night TV."

"I suppose. Oh, Angela also said that we are not allowed to masturbate during this time so . . . "

"BONES! Please tell me you and Angela did not talk about . . . "

"Why? It's perfectly normal behavior. Even people who are in active, sexually fulfilling relationships occasionally . . . "

"BONES! No, okay? Just, no. You and Angela do not talk about . . .well, you do not talk about this. Especially about me, got it?"

"Fine. You can be very prudish about some subjects, Booth."

"It's not prudish. It's private. I'm being private. I'll explain it to you some time."

"I understand private, Booth."

"Well, obviously not. There's a time and a place, Bones. A time and a place."

"You become very argumentative when you're tired."

His chuckle rippled through the night.

"Ah, I miss you, Bones."

Her sigh reached him through the miles separating them.

"I miss you, Booth."


	14. To Join this Man and this Woman

It was a small, wood-framed white chapel. Nestled with its back to the Chesapeake Bay, it had served the same tiny community on the Eastern Shore of Maryland since its construction over 100 years ago. Simple in design, it consisted of one large room, a center aisle dividing rows of oak-hewn pews polished by age and use. At the end of the aisle stood a tall altar as plain in design as the chapel itself, its only concession to prominence the fact that it hid a small platform step that lifted the minister high enough to see out over his congregation. As befitting the needs of the original membership, the chapel was unadorned, missing the more usual religious iconography of larger houses of worship. The members here held their faith close to their hearts, their prayers and song the only decoration the chapel bore.

Tonight, the warm gold of the setting sun filtered through the open windows, the breeze from the Bay fluttering the gauzy curtains hanging over them. Light from the tall, slender lamps stationed in the four corners of the room added a steady glow to the flickering light provided by the branches of tall, ivory candles spread throughout.

In the corner behind and to the left of the altar, a harpist's fingers provided soft musical accompaniment as guests settled in, their voices hushed.

Seated on the first pew on the right side of the aisle, Booth caught himself tapping the heel of one foot and stopped. He glanced down at his watch. Not even two minutes since he'd looked at it last. Surreptitiously, he tapped the face. Padme, sitting next to him, squeezed his knee. Jared, on the other side of Padme, leaned over smiling and whispered, "Almost time."

On the other side of Booth, Parker shifted in his seat to watch as late arrivals entered. He waved to his mother as she and her boyfriend sat down in the back. Caroline Julian, seated behind Jared, caught Parker's eye and gave him a broad smile and a wink, leaning forward to pat Booth on the shoulder. Booth's chin lifted, but he didn't look back.

Finally, from the other side of Parker, Father Dunaghan leaned forward. "I believe it's time." Booth stood with his son and the priest and as he stepped forward heard the sound of one last set of tires crunching over the gravel outside. Suddenly, the nervousness and tension that had gripped him for hours fell away and he took a deep breath for what he thought was the first time that day. The priest took his place in front of the altar. Booth and Parker turned to face the door as the guests fell quiet, the music from the harp filling the silence.

Booth barely registered Angela moving slowly down the aisle, dressed in a long, slender column of black silk. He didn't notice the dazzling smile she wore or the cascade of curls that fell over her shoulders or the loose bouquet of ivory roses she carried. With his whole being, he focused on the doorway. And waited.

There was a rustle of sound and movement as the guests stood and turned.

And then . . . she was there.

"_I want her to know that every time you look at her, it brings you to your knees."_

It almost did. As it was, he took an involuntary step toward her before he managed to stop himself.

She did not wear a veil. Her dark hair was styled in a loose roll above her ears and around the back of her head, tendrils pulled free to hang in delicate curls that drifted along her neck and temples, small sparkling bits of crystal flashing in the light of the candles through the silk of her hair.

His eyes locked on hers, it wasn't until later that he would notice the everything that made her beautiful. Later, when he had time to catch his breath, he'd notice how the slim straps of her ivory gown lay against the edge of her shoulders. He'd appreciate the narrow sparkling band that encircled her ribs, meeting in a point between her breasts, emphasizing their new fullness while allowing the soft chiffon and silk of the long skirt to float over the slight swelling of her abdomen. Later, when he laughed and sent her twirling from him on the dance floor, he'd catch the flash of the dolphin that glittered at the nape of her neck.

Later.

At that moment, he was caught in the glittering depths of her eyes, lost in the knowledge that she was . . . finally . . . his.

_She's walking too slow_, he thought. With an effort, he managed not to race down the aisle and pull her from Max's side.

Finally . . . she was there. Standing next to him.

Finally . . . Booth felt Max place her hand in his, giving him a pat on the shoulder before he turned to sit down.

Finally . . . there she was, right beside him. Angela stepped forward and tugged the bouquet out of Brennan's hand and then he could hold each of her hands in his. The priest he hadn't even had to argue, much, to convince her to use an an officiate began speaking.

Neither heard him.

Twice, Booth said "I do" in the wrong place.

Three times, Father Dunaghan repeated the beginning of Brennan's side of the vows before Angela stepped forward and whispered in her ear, "This is the part where you say your name, sweetie."

Booth took his eyes off of her only twice. The first time, when Parker nudged him with a small, faded velvet box.

Brennan took her eyes off of him only once, to watch as he slid the wide silver band on her finger.

Once again, it was Angela who stepped forward, taking the box from Booth, folding the wider band into Brennan's hand. And then it was Booth who watched as she pushed the ring into its place.

"And so, by the power vested in me by the State of Maryland . . ."

He saw it in her eyes and took one step forward, arms open as she launched herself toward him. Dimly, the sounds of cheers and clapping reached them, through a kiss that seemed endless. Finally, they separated and stood smiling at each other until the cheers and laughter faded.

" . . . I now pronounce you man and wife," Father Dunaghan continued, smiling broadly. "Seeley Booth, you may kiss your bride."

And, he did.


	15. Sandcastles

**"_Logic only gives man what he needs. Magic gives him what he wants."_ Tom Robbins**

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They ran, ducking, through a shower of falling birdseed to the open door of a waiting limousine. Laughing, tangled together in her skirts, they fell inside; Booth lowered the tinted window and, with Brennan lying across his lap, they waved and called their goodbyes as the vehicle drove away. She drew her arm back inside so he could close the window but otherwise stayed where she was, lying across his lap, her head on his chest.

He glanced up to make sure the privacy screen was in place then with a gentle hand, raised her face to meet his kiss. "Mrs. Booth," he whispered against her lips.

"That will take some getting used to," she laughed softly.

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep saying it, to help you adjust." He nibbled along her jawline to her ear.

"I have always found you to be very helpful." Outside, the limo ate up the miles as it traveled in the darkness.

Seconds, minutes, hours later - Booth forcefully settled Brennan beside him. "Stop. You. Sit. Here." When she lunged for him again, he backed into the door, laughing. Catching her face within his hands, he kissed her hard. "If you touch me again, Bones, we're having our wedding night in the back of this limo. Please, God, sit over there."

With a hint of a pout, she sat back against the seat, watching with heavy lidded eyes as he re-buttoned his shirt. He watched her watching him. "You're killing me," he whispered, slowly lifting the straps of her dress back to her shoulders. If his fingers wandered as he tugged her bodice back in place, neither complained.

She tilted her head against his shoulder and sighed. "It was a beautiful day, wasn't it?"

"It was a perfect day," Booth responded, letting his head rest against hers. "Perfect."

"And the party was fun, yes? Everyone seemed to have a very good time." She looked up with a bright smile.

"Were there other people there? I only saw you," he smiled, pulling her more snugly against his side.

"Parker seemed fascinated with Angela's dad. Did you notice how much time they spent together?"

"I noticed Daisy trampling about 30 people to catch those flowers," Booth chuckled. A white light began to blink on the control panel below the privacy screen. Booth leaned forward and pressed the intercom button.

"Yes?"

"We're approximately five minutes from the hotel, sir," the driver's disembodied voice filled the space between them.

When the limo rolled to a stop, the driver hurried to open the door. If he noticed the bride's hair looked a bit more disheveled than when they'd gotten in earlier, he didn't comment. And if he happened to take note of the fact that the groom's shirt was miss-buttoned, not a hint showed in his expression when the groom discreetly passed him a thick pad of folded bills and shook his hand. But when cleaning the car the next morning he found a few sparkling crystal hairpins and one very wrinkled bow tie buried in the cushions of the seat, he allowed himself a smile. _I love weddings,_he thought.

As the limo pulled away, Brennan picked up her skirts and took a step toward the entrance.

"Hey, what are you doing," Booth asked, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her into the lobby. "I get to carry you over the threshold."

She laughed, looping her arms around his neck. "This isn't our threshold. And, since the tradition originated as a result of brides being kidnapped and forcibly taken to her new home and I have obviously not been kidnapped . . ."

Her filmy ivory skirts falling over his arm, Booth strode to the bank of elevators. They acknowledged the cheers and congratulations of the hotel staff behind the desk with smiles and nods, until the elevator doors closed them in together. Still holding her, Booth lowered his head for a kiss that lasted until he heard the ping announcing their floor.

Shifting her slightly, he managed to get the card-key out of his pocket and unlocked the door to their suite, pressing another kiss on her lips as he stepped inside.

As the door closed, her eyes fluttered open and she looked around. "Oh, Booth," she breathed, as he loosened his hold to let her stand within the circle of his arms. The light from, literally, hundreds of candles cast moving shadows over the room. On every surface, flames glimmered and danced, even, she noticed, from the small glimpse she could see of the bathroom and from the wide balcony that wrapped around the room, doors standing open to allow the sounds and scents of the sea just beyond to fill the air surrounding them. "How did you . . . "

"Magic," he whispered, with a kiss below her ear, deciding to fill her in later on the hours he'd spent that day placing everything just so, on the detail in the coordination with the hotel staff and the driver that had helped create this one moment, just for her. All for her.

Tears glimmered in the candlelight as she turned in his arms and lifted her face for his kiss. "Booth . . . "

x - x - x - x

* * *

><p>x - x - x - x<p>

Much later, Booth turned over in his sleep, an arm reaching out to draw her close. When he felt only the cool surface of the sheets, he was instantly, automatically, fully awake. He turned on his back, eyes scanning the room. Most of the candles had gutted out long ago but here and there, small flames stubbornly danced in the darkness. A whisper of movement caught his eye; she was standing on the balcony, wrapped in a comforter stolen from the bed, hands fixed to the rail. She stared out at the waves, tossing her head occasionally as random gusts of wind blew strands of her hair across her face.

He padded over to her, careful to make enough noise that she wouldn't be startled by his presence, and covered her shoulders with his hands. She raised both of hers to cover one of his, lifting his fingers to press a kiss to them.

"When I was little," she began, "my parents took Russ and me to the ocean one year for vacation. Our hotel room was very high, like this one, so we could look out over the water. My mom and I would sit on the balcony for hours, watching the waves. She would tell me stories," Brennan smiled, "about what was going on beneath the surface of the water. Mermaids riding dolphins like ponies. Sharks going to the dentist." She breathed deeply, looking over her shoulder at him briefly before turning her gaze back to the sea. "She used to tell me that whenever a wave destroyed a sand castle, the octopus rebuilt it at the bottom of the ocean." Booth dropped his arms to circle her waist, one hand lying gently above their child, and rubbed his cheek softly against her hair, listening.

"Dad told me about a time people believed the world ended at the edge of the sea. He said that because they couldn't see what was beyond the ocean, they believed if you sailed far enough, you'd reach the end and fall into nothing. My mother laughed and said how silly that was. How could the ocean end when there were all those sandcastles to build?"

She turned to face him. "I feel as if I've spent my life afraid to cross the ocean because I couldn't see what was beyond the edge. I didn't know . . . I didn't believe, that anything existed beyond what I could see." She laid her palm against his cheek. "Until you." She stared into his warm brown eyes. "You've shown me that out there past the edge of what I can see, is everything that's really important, and everything I ever wanted. You've taught me that I don't have to be afraid to stand on the edge."

"You've shown me the sandcastles at the bottom of the ocean."

He wrapped her close, his arms tight around her and drew her back into the room. They whispered other words to each other as the night faded and the sun rose. Words of love and commitment and promise and tomorrow. Words that mingled with the sounds of passion and laughter. Words that faded into sighs that faded into sleep as they remained wrapped around each other.

And finally, words in the silence of sleep. Murmurs as bodies shifted and parted and were pulled close again. The quiet vibration that hummed as a face turned to the warmth of a chest. And the soft whisper of a breath released as one hand lay protectively over an unborn child.


	16. Table for Four

"Everything okay?" Brennan was standing at the sink, a hand on her distended abdomen, her brow furrowed. "Bones?"

Coming out of her reverie, she looked over and nodded. "Yes. I think I have indigestion." Her hand moved over her stomach in small circles. "I'm not sure what was in that Creole pasta Caroline served last night, but it doesn't seem to agree with me."

Booth joined her at the sink. "Are you sure it's just indigestion?" His hand covered hers. "Should we call Dr. Fowler?"

She considered for a moment, then shook her head. "No. My regular appointment is tomorrow. If I still feel this way, I'll mention it to her then." She brushed his lips with hers. "I still have three weeks before my due date. I'll just be more careful with my food choices."

x - x - x - x

* * *

><p>x - x - x - x<p>

Later that day, Brennan sat on a tall stool in front of Angela's tech wall, studying carefully the 3D images she had prepared of Native American burial mounds recently discovered in southeast Tennessee. "You've done a great job, Angela. I would still prefer to be on-site but as that's not possible, this is a reasonable substitute." Brennan frowned slightly, absent-mindedly rubbing her stomach.

"Brennan, you've been doing that all day," Angela said, with a nod to Brennan's hand on her stomach. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Brennan looked down at her hand. "Oh, this. Yes, I'm fine. I believe I have indigestion. Caroline prepared something called Creole pasta last night. It's caused me some discomfort."

"Are she and your dad still . . . " Angela paused. "You know . . . " she raised her eyebrows and wiggled her head. "You know."

"Yes," Brennan sighed, looking as confused as Angela. "I don't understand the connection at all. They seem to actually enjoy arguing and snipping at each other. Why would anyone want to be involved with someone you disagreed with so often?"

Angela blinked, her mouth hanging open as she looked at Brennan. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously." Brennan turned her attention back to the burial mound simulation. "Personally, I prefer a more peaceful relationship."

Angela stared with wide eyes, then shook her head with a grin. "Right. Peaceful. That's exactly what I think of when I think of you and Booth."

"What?" Distracted, Brennan glanced over from the simulation.

Angela rolled her eyes. "Never mind, sweetie."

"Bones!" a voice called from the hallway. Brennan straightened slowly from the stool. Angela stood in her doorway and signaled.

"In here, Booth." The tech wall went blank just as he and Parker came in.

"Hi, Angela!" he said, crossing the room to give Brennan a hug. "Guess what I brought with me, Temperance? _Star Wars_! I can't believe you've never seen it!"

"It's a crime, Parker. We have so much to teach her."

"I don't believe missing a movie qualifies as a criminal act, Booth."

"Never having seen _Star Wars _is criminal, Bones. It just is." Booth nodded at Angela and with a hand at her back, led Brennan from the room.

"What makes it so important? Is that the movie with the talking bear?"

"Talking bear . . . He's not a talking bear, Bones. He's a Wookie. He looks like Bigfoot."

"How can he look like Bigfoot when Bigfoot doesn't exist?"

"Fine, he looks like what Bigfoot would look like if Bigfoot were real."

"That statement makes no sense, Booth. If something isn't real . . ."

Angela laughed as the sound of the bickering faded. "Uh huh. Peaceful."

x - x - x - x

* * *

><p>x - x - x - x<p>

Dinner was almost over before he noticed that she'd spent more time pushing the food around her plate than actually eating. He set Parker to clearing the rest of the dishes before looking at her in concern.

"You didn't eat much. Are you sure everything is okay?"

"I'm still just a bit unsettled. I'll wait a bit and then eat something before I go to bed." She squeezed his hand. "Stop worrying. I feel fine."

Thirty minutes later, Booth looked away from the battle on screen to the sleeping face of his wife. Her feet in his lap, her head at the other end of the sofa, she was lost to the world, not waking even when he gathered her in his arms and carried her to bed. Several more times throughout the evening, he peeked in on her and found that she hadn't stirred. Finally, movie over and Parker settled in his room, Booth prepared for bed himself, gathering her close as he slid in next to her. With a restless murmur, she settled against him. He spread his hand on the bulge of her abdomen, smiling as he fell asleep with the feel of the baby nudging his fingers.

x - x - x - x

* * *

><p>x - x - x - x<p>

The room was in darkness when her voice woke him. "Booth?" He blinked, coming up slowly from the depths of slumber. His legs shifted . . . and his eyes popped wide as he felt wet sheets.

"I think my water broke," she whispered.

He dropped a kiss on her forehead before reaching out to turn on the bedside light. "For a minute there, I thought we might need bigger diapers," he joked, trying to lighten the tension. "We'll get you changed and cleaned up first. We've still got plenty of time to get to the hospital." He slid out of bed and reached for a pair of jeans, making sure his voice was calm and reassuring, reflecting none of the panic clawing through him. When he turned back to the bed, she was shaking her head.

"There isn't time. I think you should call an ambulance." Her jaw clenched, she struggled to breath as pain rippled through her. "It's too fast, Booth, call an ambulance."

The phone was in his hand before she finished speaking. "This is Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI. My wife is in labor and we need an ambulance now." He bit out the address and hung up. She tried to smile.

"Will they come faster because you're an FBI Agent?"

"They will if they know what's good for them," he answered. "I'm going to get you changed and cleaned up before they get here, okay? You'll feel better." He left the room briefly, coming back with wet cloths and dry towels. Just as he was fitting a clean, loose gown over her head, another contraction ripped through her.

"I think you should get Dr. Fowler on the phone," she gritted out. "The ambulance may not get here in time."

Booth's mind blanked for a split second before a calm, cool sense of resolve settled over him. He recognized it as the same sense of purpose that had slowed his breathing and steadied his aim when he'd faced a target during his stint with the Army. What must be done, must be done well.

"Okay, baby," he said, sitting on the bed next to her. "Here's what's going to happen. We're going to prepare to have the baby here. If the ambulance or the doctor gets here first, that's great but if not, we're still going to be fine." It never occurred to him to question her instincts; she knew her body, she knew what she was feeling and, most importantly, Temperance Brennan Booth was rarely, if ever, wrong. If she said the baby was coming now, the baby was coming now.

He came up with a plan of action on the fly. First things first, the doctor. While the call connected, he put the phone on speaker and lifted Brennan carefully to a chair by the window of the bedroom while he stripped the stained and wet bedclothes from the mattress. When the call automatically transferred to the doctor's answering service, he pressed the appropriate number and left a message at the same time he gathered clean sheets and remade the bed.

When the bed was ready, he gently settled her down again, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. She was mostly quiet but by paying attention to the change in her breathing and the way her hands twisted in the sheets, he was able to get a general sense of the timing of her contractions.

"I wish we had a waterproof tarp," Brennan mumbled when she could speak without screaming. "The mattress is going to be ruined."

"If we can't afford a new one, you can just write another book," he whispered, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

His mind raced as he tried to think ahead to everything he might need in the moments to follow.

"Dad?"

He had forgotten about Parker.

"What's going on?" His son stood in the doorway of the bedroom. "Is everything okay? Is Temperance okay?"

"Everything is going to be fine," he said, meeting him in the doorway, placing his hands on Parker's shoulders. "What I need you to do right now is go down to Jack and Angela's. Knock on the door until they wake up and stay with them until I call, okay?"

"Booth?" His name ended on a long moan of anguish.

Parker took a step into the room with Booth. "Dad, I want to stay. I can help. I want to help Temperance."

Booth turned back quickly. "Parker, I don't have time . . ." His son stared back steadily. For a flash of a second, Booth saw a hint of the man he would be.

"I'm not a baby, Dad. I can help."

Booth pulled Parker to him in a fierce hug. "On one condition. You do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it, no questions asked. And if tell you again to go to Jack and Angela's, you go. Immediately. Cool?"

"Cool."

A low harsh cry had them both rushing into the room. "Parker, go get the first aid kit from the cabinet in the small bathroom," Booth ordered over his shoulder. "The big kit."

Parker raced out and was back in seconds, holding it open. Booth removed a small bottle of antiseptic scrub and headed to the bathroom. "Tempy, I'm just in the bathroom, washing my hands. I can see you," he said softly, watching as she twisted with another contraction. "I'm right here, baby. I'm right here. Parker, unlock the front door, and then bring me every pillow you can find."

His hands clean, he returned to her side as Parker dropped an armload of pillows on the floor. "Great. Now, I need towels, but don't drop them on the floor."

"How many?"

"Just bring them all. Every clean towel you can find."

"Rebecca is not going to be happy, is she? That Parker is witnessing childbirth?" She spoke through gritted teeth as he arranged the pillows behind her back and under her legs and checked to see if he could see anything happening with the delivery.

"She'll deal," he answered simply.

"If something goes wrong . . . "

He stopped her with a look. "Nothing is going to go wrong." She nodded and panted through another contraction.

Parker came back with towels and was sent out again, this time to the kitchen for the sharpest knife he could find. He brought the knife to Booth who looked at it and nodded.

His tone was serious as he spoke to his son. "Now, this is important, buddy. I need you to go in the bathroom and scrub your hands with that stuff I left by the sink. Scrub them, Parker. No shortcuts. Do it twice. And when you're done, clean the knife the same way. Be careful, don't cut yourself, but make sure it's clean. Got it?"

The phone jingled. Booth grabbed for it, punching the speaker button so Brennan could participate. Dr. Fowler's cheerful voice filled the room.

"I hear you guys are having a baby?"

Quickly, Booth answered the OB's questions, including the preparations he'd made, just in case.

"You're doing a great job so far," she soothed them, offering more advice and general instructions. "I've spoken to the hospital and the ambulance is still 10 minutes away. I'm a few minutes ahead of them. I'll stay with you on the phone in case we have a delivery before medical personnel arrive. Mr. Booth, right now, I need you to help me help you. Dr. Brennan, Temperance, are you with me? Are you able to speak through the contractions?"

"She's nodding, Dr. Fowler," Booth spoke to the phone, smiling at Brennan. "Dr. Fowler?" The call had dropped. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath.

A harsh moan escaped her, low at first but building in volume until she muffled the sound by twisting into her pillow. Booth adjusted the thin sheet covering her legs to look for signs of anything happening . . . and froze as he got a brief glimpse of the top of an infant's head in the birth canal before the contraction eased and the head disappeared.

"Parker!" he yelled. His son came out holding the meticulously clean knife. "Open that large package of gauze in the kit, put it right here next to me and lay the knife on it," Booth instructed calmly. When Parker stepped back after complying, Booth looked up, his expression serious.

"Now, I want you to go stand up there with Temperance. Put your arms behind her back and just hold her there. Don't push, just be there. Got it?" Parker nodded, eyes wide. "And if I tell you to go, you go. Remember?"

"Baby? Baby? Bones!" Booth snapped his fingers and Brennan's eyes popped open. "She's right here. I just saw her. So the next time you want to push, she'll be here all the way." He took his place at the foot of the bed and folded the sheet back. He took a deep breath and looked up at his wife and his son. Parker was patting her arm, whispering softly, "It's going to be okay. Dad said it's almost over, Temperance. It's going to be okay." She was nodding in response though panting breaths, eyes closed. Suddenly her chin arched up.

"Okay, this is it, baby," Booth encouraged. "This is it, come on. Come on..." his daughter's head emerged and he turned her chin gently, tilting her lower. "Just a little more, baby . . . okay, okay, you're all done, stop pushing . . . " And he guided the rest of his daughter's body into the world. For just a moment, his breath froze in his throat as he held the tiny, squirming, slippery body in his hands.

"Booth?" The hint of uncertainty in her voice brought his eyes up from the baby girl. He didn't know tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"She's perfect. She's perfect." He nodded and smiled and exhaled as a laugh escaped Brennan. "She's perfect. Parker," he looked at the boy standing silent and wide-eyed. "Spread one of these towels over Temperance. Careful, try to touch just the edges." When the towel was in place, Booth gently laid the baby girl down.

"Wow . . . " Parker whispered, staring at the baby. "This is awesome . . ."

"Is there anything left for me to do?" Dr. Fowler asked from the doorway.

The new parents and the new brother only barely noticed the doctor coming in. Booth moved aside to allow the doctor to handle the final details of the birth, glancing at the bedside clock.

"4:47, Bones. Remember that time."

x - x - x - x

* * *

><p>x - x - x - x<p>

At the hospital a few hours later, after a battery of the usual tests proved that yes, she was indeed perfect, the baby girl was returned to her anxious parents and sleeping brother. They immediately unwrapped the tightly wound blanket to count fingers and toes and admire the tiny hands and dimpled feet. Then she was wrapped up again, if somewhat less expertly than before, and it was the woven cap they removed, to run fingertips through the downy, dark curls and trace the delicate shells of her tiny ears.

And then they just stared at her, watching her sleep, marveling like countless new parents at the beauty of the life they'd created.

Parker finally woke and came to stand beside Booth, staring down at his sister. Booth hugged him close.

"You were great, buddy. You were so great."

Brennan held out her hand. "You were awesome, Parker," she said, and they all laughed at her use of his favorite word.

"Have you named her yet?" he asked, stroking her soft cheek with one finger.

Brennan and Booth exchanged a look.

"Not yet. We were waiting for you." Booth responded.

"We're considering Margaret," Brennan added. "For your great-grandmother."

"We can call her Maggie," Booth smiled.

"Margaret," emphasized Brennan.

"I like Ruth," Parker decided.

"Ruth?" Brennan asked softly.

"That was your mom's name, right?" Parker asked. "I like it. Ruth. It's pretty."

His father cleared his throat. "Ruth . . . Booth, Parker?"

"Yea," he answered. "Yea," he said again, with more confidence. "Ruth Booth. I like the way it sounds." He leaned over the baby, cooing. "What do you think? Do you like Ruth?"

Booth narrowed a look at Brennan. "I told you this wasn't going to end well," he murmured.

"It's a middle name," Brennan shrugged quietly. "We can call her Margaret."

"Maggie."

"I think that's a fine name, Parker," Brennan said finally, loud enough for Parker to hear. "Margaret Ruth. Thank you."

"Of course, we'll call her Maggie," Booth slapped Parker's back lightly. "Just so you know. Maggie Booth."

"Margaret."


	17. Sunset

"And that's me!" A small finger pointed to a picture of a dark haired baby girl.

"No," Brennan smiled. "That's Mommy. But you do share a remarkable resemblance." She turned to the next page of photos. "See? There's Mommy again, with Uncle Parker."

"Grandpa!" The small boy cuddled next to her side got to his knees, removed his fingers from his mouth and pointed to a photo of a smiling Booth with his daughter in one arm and the other around Parker. The swing twisted erratically with his movements.

"Can I see the pretty dress again, Grandma?" Smiling, Brennan flipped back in the photo album until she reached the wedding photos. "Oooh," the little girl sighed, resting back against Brennan's chest. "You look like just like a princess."

"Grandpa!" The swing rocked again as the little boy stood up and reached toward a photo of Brennan and Booth, standing in front of a small, white chapel. Brennan caught him around the waist just before he tipped off and tugged him to sit snugly against her side.

"Want to know a secret?" she said softly to the little girl sitting in her lap. "I felt like a princess." She kissed the uptilted nose. "I was almost as pretty as you."

"And you lived happily ever after!" Brennan laughed at the happy squeak of the girl's voice and squeezed both children closer.

"Yes, we did. That's always how the best stories end, right?"

"Don't forget the moral of the story, Mom - never let a pre-teen boy name your baby girl." Ruth stepped out on the porch. "Your Uncle Parker is the reason I was tortured in school for years because my name was Ruth Booth."

"That's not accurate, Lisa," Brennan smiled down at her granddaughter. "We tried to get your mother to respond to her first name but she ignored us if we didn't call her Ruth." Brennan rubbed noses with the bright eyed little girl. "Your mother is as stubborn as her father."

"Hey, hey, my ears are burning!" Booth called out as he and the rest of the family joined them, filling the wide expanse of the front porch. Booth picked up the young boy sitting beside Brennan and sat down next to her, settling the boy on his lap.

"Besides," laughed Parker. "If I hadn't called you Ruthie, you'd never have gotten to beat up all those boys while you were in school. So, I did you a favor. That name made you strong."

"What am I, a Johnny Cash song? Moron," Ruthie answered with the same pretence of irritation she always used when this subject was broached.

"I don't know what that means," Brennan murmured to Booth, nudging his shoulder.

"I'll explain later," he whispered back, enjoying the show as their children continued to bicker.

"You should have changed it when you got married," Parker continued. "You're still Ruth Booth. See? You like it. I win."

"You _**are**_ a moron, Parker." Ruthie picked a piece of ice from her drink and threw it at him. "Of course I kept my last name. The FBI would fall to pieces without a Booth there to keep things in line." She leaned over and kissed her dad on the cheek, taking her daughter from Brennan's lap.

"My mommy has a gun," the little girl piped up.

"Yes, she does," Ruthie answered. "And Uncle Parker should remember that."

"Ruth, Parker, is it really appropriate to joke about guns and shooting each other around the children? Personally, I would rather Daniel keep his illusions a little while longer."

"Stuff it, Zach."  
>"Shut up, Zach."<br>Ruth and Parker rounded on their youngest brother simultaneously.

"Mom!" he appealed. "Dad!"

Booth and Brennan exchanged a glance.

"Don't tell your brother to shut up, Parker."  
>"Stop threatening to shoot someone, Ruthie."<p>

Ruthie made a face at Zach and whispered, "You're such a pain in the . . . "

"Ruth!" Adult though she was, Margaret Ruth Booth Taylor did not hesitate to obey when her father spoke in that voice.

Standing next to her husband, Parker stuck an elbow in his ribs. "Does that tone of voice work for you?"

"More than my life is worth to try it!" Andy answered with a grin.

"I can hear you!" Ruth tried and failed to glare at her husband and brother.

"Is Aunt Woofie going to shoot Uncle Pawka?" The little boy twisted in Booth's lap to look up at his grandfather.

Booth kissed the toddler's head. "No, Daniel. Aunt Ruthie is just sad because you're moving far away and she'll have to get on a plane to come see you." He kissed the top of the boy's head. "Aunt Ruthie is scared of airplanes. And when she's scared, she's not very nice," he whispered loudly.

"I'm not . . . " Ruth began, but fell silent at a look from her father.

"Hey, speaking of moving," Parker looked over at Zach. "I'll be at your presentation after all, bro."

"Yea? Really?" Zach smiled. "How did you work that out?"

"We pushed the new album's release date back until November to get the Christmas shoppers, so the PR push won't start until the middle of September." He jabbed quickly at Zach's shoulder. "It's not every day my little brother is named Dean of UCLA's School of Medicine."

"The youngest ever . . "  
>"Youngest in the history of . . ."<p>

Booth and Brennan spoke together, garnering a laugh from the rest of the group.

Ruthie stuck her tongue out at Zach. "Show off," she grinned.

Zach glanced over, saw his son occupied with Booth and stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

"Children, children . . ." Parker scolded, laughing. "I know I raised you better."

Zach shoved him. "Remind me to tell security that Parker Booth . . ." he waved his hands in the air . . . "will be on campus. They're so discreet."

"No!" Parker said, alarmed. "I'll have my team contact the head of the department. Maybe we can keep it quiet." At Zach's rolled eyes and Ruthie's snort, Parker conceded. "Okay, quiet-er."

"Okay, kiddo, we have to scoot," Ruthie sighed, kissing her daughter's soft cheek. "Time for goodbye kisses!" Booth and Brennan stood to pass off Daniel to his mother and watch and smile at the hustle and bustle as their children and their families gathered themselves to head home.

Parker walked with Zach and his wife, pausing by their car as she put Daniel in his car seat. "Coming for dinner tomorrow?" Zach asked, as he opened the trunk and tossed toys into the space.

"Aw, hell. Can't. We're auditioning a new backup singer from New York tomorrow. She's coming in special from the Village."

"Is she good?"

Parker shrugged. "Dunno. I like the demo. Some girl named Ella Sweets. We'll see."

"Never know," Zach smiled. "Might be the girl of your dreams."

Parker snorted. "Yea, that'll happen."

Booth and Brennan watched and waved from the steps of the porch as the cars pulled away. Brennan glanced at Booth, standing with one shoulder perched against the frame of the porch, gazing down the driveway as the departing cars drove into the sunset. In the blink of an eye, the years melted away and she saw him as she'd first met him - tall, broad shouldered, his dark hair worn short, the eyes and grin that still charmed her. Booth caught her gaze and smiled, reaching out and wrapping her close.

She went on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his lips, smiling back at the man she'd grown old with. Truth be told, even with his hair gone silver, the softness of his jawline and the lines that creased his eyes, she found him as handsome as he'd ever been.

"So, Dr. Brennan," he murmured. "Do you believe in fate?"

She offered him a dazzling smile and tucked her head under his chin, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

"Absolutely, Agent Booth. Absolutely."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Authors Note: In my world, B&amp;B have earned their happy ever after. Fluffy? Absolutely. But, happy. And I like happy. :-)<br>**_

**_I'm not sure if I'm supposed to respond to all the comments that have been left, and I didn't want to artificially inflate the numbers by commenting myself, so if you've left me one please consider yourself thanked! This has been so much fun! _  
><strong>


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